War of Words: Britain, France and Discourses of Empire during the Second World War 9781009181013, 9781009180993, 1009181017

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War of Words

War of Words argues that the conflicts that erupted over French colonial territory between 1940 and 1945 are central to understanding British, Vichy and Free French policy-making throughout the war. By analysing the rhetoric that surrounded these clashes, Rachel Chin demonstrates that imperial holdings were valued as more than material and strategic resources. They were formidable symbols of power, prestige and national legitimacy. She shows that having and holding imperial territory was at the core of competing Vichy and Free French claims to represent the true French nation and that opposing images of FrancoBritish cooperation and rivalry were at the heart of these arguments. The selected case studies show how British–Vichy–Free French relations evolved throughout the war and demonstrate that the French colonial empire played a decisive role in these shifts. Rachel Chin is Postdoctoral Research Associate on an AHRC-funded research project at the University of Glasgow and a member of the Scottish Council on Global Affairs.

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War of Words Britain, France and Discourses of Empire during the Second World War Rachel Chin University of Glasgow

Published online by Cambridge University Press

University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, NY 10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia 314–321, 3rd Floor, Plot 3, Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – 110025, India 103 Penang Road, #05–06/07, Visioncrest Commercial, Singapore 238467 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781009181013 DOI: 10.1017/9781009180993 © Rachel Chin 2022 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2022 A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Chin, Rachel, 1987– author. Title: War of words : Britain, France and discourses of empire during the Second World War / Rachel Chin, University of Glasgow. Description: Cambridge ; New York : Cambridge University Press, 2022. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2022004199 | ISBN 9781009181013 (hardback) | ISBN 9781009180993 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Great Britain – Foreign relations – France. | France – Foreign relations – Great Britain. | World War, 1939–1945 – Great Britain – Diplomatic history. | World War, 1939–1945 – France – Diplomatic history. | Great Britain – Foreign relations – 1936–1945. | France – Foreign relations – 1914–1940. | France – History – German occupation, 1940–1945. | BISAC: HISTORY / Europe / Great Britain / General Classification: LCC D750 .C47 2022 | DDC 327.4104409044–dc23/eng/20220321 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022004199 ISBN 978-1-009-18101-3 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

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To my parents, Robbin and Joseph, who always had time to take me to the library

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Contents

Acknowledgements List of Abbreviations Introduction

page viii x 1

1 From the Dunkirk Evacuations to the Franco-German Armistice: Renegotiating the Franco-British Alliance

19

2 ‘The Real Question at Issue’: British Policy and the French Fleet

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3 A Necessary Tragedy? The British Bombardments of the French Fleet at Mers El-Kébir

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4 Vichy, the Free French and the Battle for Imperial Influence at Dakar in September 1940

104

5 Promises of Independence: Operation Exporter and the Struggle for the Levant

136

6 Operation Torch: American Influence and the Battle for French North Africa

172

7 Independence on French Terms: The 1943 Lebanese Parliamentary Crisis

204

8 Holding On to Empire: The French Bombardment of Damascus, May 1945

230

Conclusion Bibliography Index

260 269 284

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Acknowledgements

I thought that writing acknowledgements would be one of the easier parts of writing a book. As it turns out, I was wrong. So many people have helped this book along its way, and each of their contributions has been unique. It is impossible to convey my thanks sufficiently with these few words, but I hope that they can make a start. This book was only possible thanks to my PhD supervisors Martin Thomas and Richard Toye, who kindly took a chance on me and welcomed me onto their Rhetorics of Empire project. Their support and advice have been invaluable. Likewise, I am grateful to the Leverhulme Trust and the University of Exeter for funding this research. The Royal Historical Society and the Economic History Society provided generous additional funding for research trips to Paris and Cambridge. Other friends and colleagues have provided advice that has been essential to shaping and polishing this book. At the University of Exeter, Ryan Patterson and Laure Humbert helped me to think about my ideas and afforded me their hospitality over many cups of coffee and glasses of wine. At the University of Glasgow, Peter Jackson has been an endless source of support and helpful critique. My thanks to him for reminding me that complex ideas can and should be expressed simply. Other colleagues, Rogelia Pastor-Castro, Charlotte Faucher, Damien Van Puyvelde and Sarah Dunstan, have provided advice, support and friendship during my academic career, for which I am supremely grateful. Michael Watson and Emily Plater at Cambridge University Press have been both supportive and kind throughout the review and editorial process. I am grateful to the anonymous reviewers whose feedback gave me confidence in the book and fuelled some valuable improvements to the manuscript. The support that I have had from friends and family has been equally important in this endeavour. Debbie, my housemate of nearly five years, allowed me to bend her ear with historical ramblings over bottles of mulled wine drunk much too early in the season. Paula, my dear viii

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Acknowledgements

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friend and fellow bibliophile, has been an endless and unflinching source of encouragement and espresso martinis. My family has put up with my annoying habit of visiting archives in the middle of family holidays. Peter has reminded me that more occasions should be celebrated with champagne. Finally, a short ode to Max the cat, whose demands for attention have fuelled many happy research interludes.

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Abbreviations

BEF CCS CFLN CIGS CNF CNR COMAC COS FFI IR JPS JPSC LON MEC MO MOI MRP OSS PCF PMC RAF SOE

British Expeditionary Force Combined Chiefs of Staff Comité Français de Libération Nationale (French Committee of National Liberation) Chief of the Imperial General Staff Comité National Français (French National Committee) Conseil National de la Résistance (National Council of the Resistance) Commission d’Action Militaire (Military Action Committee) Chiefs of Staff Forces Françaises de l’Intérieur (French Forces of the Interior) International Relations Joint Planning Staff Joint Planning Subcommittee League of Nations Middle East Command Mass Observation Ministry of Information Mouvement Républicain Populaire (French Christian Democrat Party) Office of Strategic Services Parti Communiste Français (French Communist Party) Permanent Mandates Commission Royal Air Force Special Operations Executive

x

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Introduction

On 22 June 1940, Marshal Philippe Pétain’s newly constituted French government signed an armistice with Hitler’s Germany. At the same time, a relatively unknown brigadier general named Charles André Joseph Marie de Gaulle fled to London. De Gaulle became the leader of the Free French movement, which resolved to continue fighting against the Axis powers in the name of France. It pursued this battle symbolically and, eventually, militarily. Three decades later, British Members of Parliament would historicise this moment, and the man at its centre. British Prime Minister Edward Heath would describe de Gaulle’s ‘unconquerable determination to restore France’ as ‘one of the few sure and certain things’ in 1940. Liberal Party Leader Jeremy Thorpe would recount a story in which Britain’s wartime Prime Minister Winston Churchill supposedly greeted de Gaulle with the prophetic words, ‘here comes the Constable of France’.1 In these commemorations, de Gaulle was the undisputed guardian of French honour and the personification of the Franco-British alliance. However, in 1940, and throughout the Second World War, neither de Gaulle’s position nor the status of the Franco-British relationship was ever this straightforward. The launch of the Free French movement in London substantially altered the Franco-British relationship.2 It pitted one representative of France and French interests against another. On the one side, Britain and the Free French offered guarantees of Allied victory and the restoration of France to its ‘rightful’ place on the world stage. On the other side, Pétain’s Vichy government promised French renewal, both moral and material, in a Europe led by Germany. In these arguments over the

1

2

Hansard HC Deb vol. 806 col. 211, 214 (10 November 1970) https://hansard.parliament .uk /commons/1970 -11-10/debates/d6157654 -c7db- 4ee2-8a85 - 43a74d416295/ GeneralDeGaulle(Tributes). Because the Vichy government and the Free French claimed to represent France after the Franco-German armistice, the term ‘Franco-British relationship’ should be understood as several relationships.

1

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Introduction

future of France, each side worked hard to demonstrate the legitimacy of its claims. The French Empire became the main arena in which these claims were fought. Imperial holdings were central to Vichy and Free French assertions of power, legitimacy and sovereignty. De Gaulle’s authority over Afrique équatoriale française (French Equatorial Africa [AEF]), consolidated in the ‘three glorious days’ of August 1940, gave his cause greater material and moral credibility. It was from there that he grandly promised British Prime Minister Winston Churchill the loyalty of fourteen million French citizens and toasted the health and longevity of the Franco-British alliance.3 However, the Vichy government retained control over strategically important territories, including French North and West Africa, French Indochina and the Middle East Levantine Mandates of Syria and Lebanon. Vichy would not hesitate to defend its imperial possessions when faced with British and Free French incursions. As Pétain and de Gaulle fought to determine who spoke for France and its empire, they also argued over how the Franco-British relationship fitted into this equation. The legitimacy of the Free French movement was rooted in the idea of Franco-British solidarity. By contrast, the Vichy government drew on deeply ingrained historic images of Franco-British rivalry in order to shore up its own credibility and condemn British and Free French threats to its imperial sovereignty. This book tracks the evolution of the Franco-British relationship between 1940 and 1945. It does this not by counting military victories or losses, but by examining the rhetoric that British, Vichy and Free French actors deployed to legitimise their roles inside or outside of the conflict. The French colonial empire played a decisive role in these debates and in the wider Franco-British relationship. It was the location where British, Vichy and Free French interests intersected, militarily and rhetorically. The conflicts that erupted over French colonial territory between 1940  and 1945 are central to understanding British, Vichy and Free French policy-making throughout the war. More importantly, the rhetoric that was used to justify or condemn policies of imperial conflict was an integral part of the policy-making process. British, Vichy and Free French policy-makers deployed rhetoric as a strategic policymaking tool in its own right. Imperial considerations shaped French and 3

Eric Jennings rightly points out de Gaulle’s penchant for exaggeration. AEF and mandated Cameroon counted 8,881 ‘Europeans’ and 6,124,391 Africans. Eric T. Jennings, Free French Africa in World War II: The African Resistance (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 45.

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Methodology

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British narratives of the conflict. Having and holding imperial territory was central to Vichy and Free French claims of authority. Focussing on the rhetoric of imperial clashes places these political actors within a wider setting that includes symbolic understandings of nation, citizenship, national self-image and imperialism. It demonstrates that imperial holdings were valued as more than material and strategic resources. They were formidable symbols of power, prestige and national legitimacy. Their worth transcended the narrow spheres of high politics and military strategy. Methodology The focus of this study is the role of the rhetoric of Franco-British relations. This topic remains under-explored in the history of relations between France and Britain and in particular in the history of the British and French Empires. This unique rhetorical approach, which has not yet been deployed, reveals dynamics within and around the policymaking process that conventional approaches and perspectives do not. It demonstrates that the process of formulating and implementing official policies was far more complicated than a weighing of military strategies against available resources. And it delivers new insights into the complex nature of Franco-British relations during the Second World War. There remains a strong tendency in scholarship to view Franco-British relations after the Armistice as unremittingly hostile.4 Eleanor Gates, for instance, has described the events that followed the armistice as ‘divorce on a grand scale’.5 Another consequence of viewing Franco-British relations through a binary lens of either cooperation or rivalry is that June 1940 became the moment that British policy-makers abandoned the Entente in favour of a ‘special relationship’ with the United States.6 4

5 6

See, for instance, Michael Dockrill, British Establishment Perspectives on France, 1936–1940 (Basingstoke, 1999). Eleanor Gates, End of the Affair: The Collapse of the Franco-British Alliance, 1939–1940 (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1981). Warren Tute, The Reluctant Enemies: The Story of the Last War between Britain and France 1940–1942 (London: Collins, 1990). Nicholas Atkin, The Forgotten French: Exiles in the British Isles 1940–1944 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003). Simon Berthon, Allies at War: Churchill v Roosevelt v De Gaulle (London: Thistle Publishing, 2013). Colin Smith, England’s Last War against France: Fighting Vichy 1940–1942 (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2009). Gates, End of the Affair, xiv. See, for instance, David Reynolds, ‘1940: Fulcrum of the Twentieth Century?’, International Affairs, 66, 2 (April 1990). Philip Bell, ‘Entente Broken and Renewed: Britain and France, 1940–1945’, in Anglo-French Relations in the Twentieth Century: Rivalry and Cooperation, eds. Alan Sharp and Glyn Stone (London: Routledge, 2000): 223–243.

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Introduction

These accounts treat policy-making primarily as a realist practice – a weighing up of material costs and benefits. The problem with this perspective is two-fold. First, it narrows Franco-British relations to notions of inherent rivalry. Second, it reduces the practice of policy-making to the single-minded pursuit of material assets and military victories. The result is interpretations that do not pay sufficient attention to the symbolic value of wartime operations. This makes it impossible to appreciate the complex range of factors, tangible and intangible, that impacted the policy-making process. Beginning in the 1990s, some historians began to deploy a more nuanced approach to understand French and British wartime experiences. One significant outcome of this trend was a reassessment of Franco-British relations during the interwar period, leading up to France’s withdrawal from the conflict. Talbot Imlay, for instance, has argued for a broader multinational and multifactorial perspective. Scholars should ask how well both Britain and France met the test of war and envisaged the unfolding conflict.7 At the same time, imperial historians have widened geographical understandings of the conflict and challenged narrower metropolitan views.8 Martin Thomas, Richard Toye and Aviel Roshwald have reassessed France and Britain’s wartime relationship from an imperial perspective. Eric Jennings and Julian Jackson have emphasised the importance of empire in supporting the Free French movement. Other scholars have reconsidered how  France  and  Britain  experienced  war,

7

8

Talbot Imlay, Facing the Second World War: Strategy, Politics and Economics in Britain and France 1938–1940 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 5. See also, Stanley Hoffman, Decline or Renewal? France since the 1930s (New York: The Viking Press, 1974). Julian Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), Chapter 5. Martin Thomas, Britain, France and Appeasement: AngloFrench Relations in the Popular Front Era (London: Berg, 1997). Peter Jackson, France and the Nazi Menace: Intelligence and Policy Making 1933–1939 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). See, for instance, Ashley Jackson, The British Empire and the Second World War (London: Hambledon Continuum, 2006). Martin Thomas, The French Empire at War: 1940–45 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998). Eric T. Jennings, Vichy in the Tropics: Pétain’s National Revolution in Madagascar, Guadeloupe, and Indochina, 1940–1944 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2001). Eric T. Jennings, Free French Africa in World War II: The African Resistance (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015). Martin Thomas and Richard Toye, Arguing about Empire: Imperial Rhetoric in Britain and France, 1882–1956 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), Chapters 5–6. Martin Thomas, Fight or Flight: Britain, France and their Roads from Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), Chapter 2. Aviel Roshwald, Estranged Bedfellows: Britain and France in the Middle East during the Second World War (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990). Frederick Cooper, Citizenship between Empire and Nation: Remaking France and French Africa 1945–1960 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014).

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Methodology

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how those experiences have been remembered and how this past has been integrated into more contemporary policy-making.9 This has led to a growing interest in understanding how individuals and groups build their legitimacy, and therefore their power and influence, using a combination of legal, rhetorical and material techniques.10 In this book, the evolution of the Franco-British wartime relationship will be assessed through a series of imperial ‘crisis points’. When combined with the rhetorical methodology that is central to this work, these case studies illustrate the importance of empire as a material and symbolic asset. Episodes include the British bombardment of the French fleet at Mers el-Kébir (1940), British and Free French clashes with Vichy forces at Dakar (1940), British-Free French operations to capture Syria and Lebanon (1941), the British-American ‘Torch’ invasions of North Africa (1942) and British-Free French tensions in the Levant in 1943 and 1945. This book asks how British and Free French decision-makers prepared to defend controversial policies of imperial confrontation. And it argues that rhetoric, broadly defined as the persuasive language of policy-making, played a central role in the conception, implementation and justification of

9

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Stanley Hoffmann, ‘The Trauma of 1940: A Disaster and Its Traces’, in The French Defeat of 1940: Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt (Providence, RI: Berghahn Books, 1998), 354–371. Olivier Wierviorka, La Mémoire Désunie: Le Souvenir Politique des Années Sombres, de la Libération à nos Jours (Paris: Le Seuil, 2010). Robert Frank, ‘The Second World War through French and British Eyes’, in Britain and France in Two World Wars: Truth, Myth and Memory, eds. Robert Tombs and Emile Chabal (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 179–191. R. Gerald Hughes, The Postwar Legacy of Appeasement: British Foreign Policy Since 1945 (London: Bloomsbury, 2014). Hugo Frey, ‘Rebuilding France: Gaullist Historiography, the Rise-Fall Myth and French Identity, 1945–58’, in Writing National Histories: Western Europe since 1800, eds. Stefan Berger, Mark Donovan and Kevin Passmore (London: Routledge, 1999), 205–216. Jon Cowans, ‘Visions of the Postwar: The Politics of Memory and Expectation in 1940s France’, History and Memory 10, no. 2 (1998): 68–101. Richard Toye, ‘The Churchill Syndrome: Reputational Entrepreneurship and the Rhetoric of Foreign Policy since 1945’, British Journal of Politics and International Relations 10, no. 3 (2008): 364–378. On constructing the legitimacy of the Free French, see Julian Jackson, A Certain Idea of France: The Life of Charles de Gaulle (London: Penguin, 2019), Chapter 8 ‘Inventing Gaullism’. Jay Winter and Antoine Prost, René Cassin and Human Rights: From the Great War to the Universal Declaration (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013). On Vichy legitimacy, see Yves Durand, ‘Collaboration French-Style: A European Perspective’, in France at War: Vichy France and the Historians, eds. Leonard V. Smith, Laura Lee Downes, Sarah Fishman, Robert Zaretsky and Ioannis Sinanoglou (Oxford: Berg, 2000), 61–76. Peter Jackson and Simon Kitson, ‘The Paradoxes of Vichy Foreign Policy, 1940–1942’, in Hitler and His Allies in World War II, ed. Jonathan R. Adelman (London: Routledge, 2007), 79–115. Simon Kitson, The Hunt for Nazi Spies: Fighting Espionage in Vichy France (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008). For a reassessment of the impact of Churchill’s wartime rhetoric, see Richard Toye, The Roar of the Lion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014).

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Introduction

these policies. In other words, it is impossible to truly understand France and Britain’s wartime relationship without examining how policy decisions and their outcomes were being defended, condemned, debated and avoided in public spaces. Only by viewing Franco-British relations through a rhetorical and imperial lens is it possible to fully grasp the complexities of this relationship. Britain, Vichy and Free France each used rhetoric to persuade local and global audiences that its position within the conflict was just, moral and would be ultimately victorious. The precise words and images that they used to do this offered up distinct notions of what it meant to be French and how war could and should be fought. Using rhetoric as an analytical tool to assess Franco-British relations has two fundamental benefits. First, rhetorical analyses deliver a more nuanced understanding of the factors that drove Franco-British wartime policies. Second, this approach shows that policy-makers’ perceptions of public opinion also influenced how policies were conceived and presented. In the past, rhetorical approaches have been criticised for their lack of specificity. Martin Thomas and Richard Toye have pointed out a tendency, particularly in social histories, to take a much broader view towards linguistic approaches. Concepts such as rhetoric and discourse get subsumed into ‘a somewhat amorphous “imperial discourse”’.11 Analysing British, Vichy and Free French rhetoric during moments of imperial tension provides a fuller picture of the dynamics of these rivalries and the role that persuasive language played in attempting to prop up imperial, and by extension global power, in a wartime and post-war environment.12 Rhetoric also frequently gets lumped in with scholarship on Second World War propaganda, of which there is a great deal.13 This approach tends to present propaganda as at best partially untrue and at worst a series of patent lies – a one-way stream of information used by governments to make a group of people think or act in a particular way. Categorising all

11 12 13

Thomas and Toye, Arguing about Empire, 7. Ibid., 6–7. See, for instance, Roger Austin, ‘Propaganda and Public Opinion in Vichy France: The Department of Hérault, 1940–44’, European Studies Review 13 (1983), 455– 482. Tim Brooks, British Propaganda to France, 1940–1944: Machinery, Method and Message (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007). Kay Chadwick, ‘Our Enemy’s Enemy: Selling Britain to Occupied France on the BBC French Service’, Media History 21, no. 4 (2015): 426–442. Hélène Eck, La Guerre des ondes. Histoire des radios de langues françaises pendant la Deuxième Guerre mondiale (Paris: Armand Colin, 1985). Michael Stenton, Radio London and Resistance in Occupied Europe: British Political Warfare 1939–1943 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). Robert J. Young, Marketing Marianne: French Propaganda in America, 1900–1940 (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press: 2003).

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Methodology

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wartime discourse under the umbrella of propaganda ignores the value of rhetoric as a recognised policy-making tool. This book defines rhetoric more narrowly, as the official responses that emerged from British, Vichy and Free French decision-making establishments during episodes of imperial tension. The result is a more nuanced understanding of French and British policy-making. Throughout the book, rhetoric and discourse will be treated as synonyms using this definition. Rhetoric is defined here not only as official public speech but also as a ‘social phenomenon’.14 The term ‘official’ refers to the statements, press releases and speeches that were delivered by acting representatives of the British and Vichy governments as well as Charles de Gaulle’s Free French movement. This is not to say that the Free French movement was, in practice, a legal French government. It simply illustrates that both Vichy and the Free French conveyed itself as the legitimate or official representative of France and French interests.15 Defining rhetoric in this way allows us to consider how high-level decision-makers viewed their own world (including their perceptions of public opinion) and how rhetoric as a dynamic concept was crucial in the shaping and changing of public and official mindsets. It also addresses one of the primary weaknesses of broader, less well-defined approaches to discourse. Namely, that they ignore the structures of power and authority that are present in any kind of communication. These structures contribute substantially to the power or persuasiveness found in language by, for instance, giving one individual or group’s words more validity than another. Taken this way, rhetoric becomes a legitimate power building tool in its own right. Pierre Bourdieu reminds us that power often manifests itself in symbolic form, rather than through constant and ‘overt physical force’.16 British and Free French officials built their legitimacy and exercised their authority using rhetoric. Images of Franco-British cooperation were a way to discredit the Vichy government and legitimise the Free French movement. Competing British, Free French and Vichy discourses showcased each actor’s divergent expectations surrounding the outcome of the war and what the post-war world would look like. Rhetorical analyses show that foreign policy was not made in a vacuum. Its conceptualisation, implementation and justification were products of debates that spanned policy-making and public spheres. The  language used to justify these

14 15 16

Richard Toye, Rhetoric: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 4. For the legal arguments and organisational structures used to assert the authority of the Free French, see Winter and Prost, René Cassin, Chapter 6. Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power, 23.

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Introduction

policies shows how normative concepts such as morality, ethics, national honour and historical memory shaped the policy-making process. The process of formulating official policies was far more complicated than a weighing of military strategies against available resources. In Britain, for example, policy discussions took place within the War Cabinet. But the policy-making circle could also expand to include members of the Whitehall bureaucracy and the armed forces who contributed to the discussions and brought professional opinions to the process. Policymakers not only consulted experts on the ground, they also weighed likely public responses to the policy choices under review. These considerations were integrated into their policy justifications. Decisionmakers anticipated how each operation was likely to affect the standing of the government (and, often, of the minister concerned) in the eyes of key domestic and foreign interest groups. Pure material capabilities played an important role in determining whether an operation was actually feasible. But even if manpower and weaponry were readily available, intangible factors, such as a likely public backlash in response to unnecessary civilian deaths, still had a real impact on the final policy decision. Studying how official British, Vichy and Free French rhetoric was conceived and communicated provides insights into this relationship between policy-making and public opinion, or what policy-makers believed to be public opinion.17 The link between policy-making and the public sphere is complex, changeable and difficult to measure. Despite these challenges, the concept of wartime public opinion has featured heavily in histories of the Second World War. Beginning in the 1980s, historical studies debunked myths that equated British public opinion with the ‘Dunkirk Spirit’ mentality. Historians have challenged consensus-based myths like this because they lump all of the war years together and fail to recognise shifts in both behaviour and popular opinion between 1939 and 1945.18 Regional studies also point to a less 17

18

For the challenges of measuring public opinion and its impact on policy-making, see Daniel Hucker, ‘International History and the Study of Public Opinion: Towards Methodological Clarity’, The International History Review 34, no. 4 (2012): 775–794. See, for instance, Agnus Calder, The Myth of the Blitz (London: Pimlico, 1991). David Reynolds, Warren F. Kimball and A. O. Chubarian, eds., Allies at War: The Soviet, American, and British Experience, 1949–1945 (London: Macmillan, 1994), 250. Richard Toye, The Roar of the Lion: The Untold Story of Churchill’s World War II Speeches (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). Alan Allport, Britain at Bay: The Epic Story of the Second World War: 1938–1941 (London: Profile Books, 2020). See also, for issues of misreporting due to feelings of guilt, M. A. Doherty, Nazi Wireless Propaganda: Lord Haw-Haw and British Public Opinion in the Second World War (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press Ltd., 2000), 119–120.

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Methodology

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homogenous reaction to the war across Britain. David Thoms argues that the Home Office failed to establish criteria to define and measure morale. Far from, the ‘spirit of the blitz’, German air raids on Plymouth between November 1940 and April 1941 ‘appear to have brought the city close to the breaking point’.19 On the French side, scholars have mobilised a variety of Vichy, Free French and British sources to measure public opinion in France during the occupation.20 Prefects’ reports have shed light on French opinion in the occupied and unoccupied zones. They have demonstrated that by the autumn of 1940, public opinion across France was both antiGerman and pro-British.21 The issue of collaboration has also played an important role in understanding public attitudes and actions during this period. Robert Paxton’s Vichy France Old Guard and New Order has been followed by studies that seek to explore in more nuance how individuals and policy-makers made choices in Vichy and occupied France.22

19

20

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David Thoms, ‘The Blitz, Civilian Morale and Regionalism, 1940–1942’, in War Culture: Social Change and Changing Experience in World War Two, eds. Pat Kirkham and David Thoms (London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1995), 4, 6. See, for instance, Roger Austin, ‘Propaganda and Public Opinion in Vichy France: The Department of Hérault, 1940–44’, European Studies Review 13 (1983), 455–482. Pierre Laborie, L’Opinion Française Sous Vichy (Paris: Éditions de Seuil, 1990). Julian Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), Chapters 11 and 12. Kay Chadwick, ‘Radio Propaganda and Public Opinion under Endgame Vichy: The Impact of Philippe Henriot’, French History 25, no. 2 (2011): 232–252. Jackson, The Dark Years, 274. Pierre Laborie, Résistants Vichyssois et Autres: L’Évolution de L’Opinion et des Comportements dans le Lot de 1939 a 1944 (Paris: Editions du C.N.R.S., 1980). See, for instance, Philippe Burrin, Living with Defeat: France under the German Occupation, 1940–1944 (New York: Hodder Education, 1997). Yves Durand, ‘Collaboration French-Style: A European Perspective’, in France at War: Vichy and the Historians, eds. Sarah Fishman, Ioannis Sinanoglou, and Laura L. Downs (Oxford: Berg, 2000), 63. John Hellman, ‘Communitarians, Non-Conformists, and the Search for a “New Man” in Vichy France’, in France at War: Vichy and the Historians, eds. Sarah Fishman, Ioannis Sinanoglou, and Laura L. Downs (Oxford: Berg, 2000), 94. Francine Muel-Dreyfus, Vichy and the Eternal Feminine: A Contribution to a Political Sociology of Gender, trans. Kathleen A. Johnson (London: Duke University Press, 2001). Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order 1940–1944 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972). Ronald Rosbottom, When Paris Went Dark: The City of Light Under German Occupation, 1940–1944 (London: John Murray, 2014). John F. Sweets, Choices in Vichy France: The French under Nazi Occupation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986). Laborie, L’Opinion Française, 328. See also Philip Nord, France’s New Deal : From the Thirties to the Postwar Era (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2010) for administrative continuity between the interwar and postwar years.

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Introduction

It is widely recognised that public opinion, although notoriously difficult to define and measure, does exert influence on the policy-making process.23 Political scientists such as Ralph Negrine have argued that public opinion should be understood as a combination of individual experiences and the social frameworks in which those experiences took place. Individuals tend to interpret issues in a way that ‘draws on past, personal, and other experiences’.24 Trying to understand and influence public opinion, then, means that policy-makers have to consider what they think will appeal to their target audience. They have to acknowledge that not all topics will be of equal interest.25 Public interest in a topic can fluctuate over time, becoming both stronger and weaker. Policymakers must be aware of these shifts.26 This book integrates a range of source materials in order to understand how high-level British, Vichy and Free French decision-makers were attempting to influence and were being influenced by public opinion. Together, they paint a picture of what decision-makers believed public opinion to be and how those beliefs shaped the policy-making process. French and British wartime policy was made with at least one eye on the press and public. In other words, public opinion mattered to highlevel decision-makers on both sides of the Channel. More importantly, public opinion or decision-makers’ perceptions of public opinion had a tangible impact on final policy and policy justifications. The press was a platform for official British, Free French and Vichy rhetoric. But it was also viewed as a barometer for public opinion, which is why press analyses play such an important role in this book.27 British papers throughout the war printed official policy explanations, but they also critiqued British, Vichy and Free French wartime policies. Although censorship made the Vichy press largely a government mouthpiece, Vichy officials would continue to monitor the British press to gain clues about British

23 24

25

26 27

Hucker, ‘International History’, 779. Ralph Negrine, The Communication of Politics (London: SAGE Publications, 1996), 128. See also G. Lang and K. Lang, The Battle for Public Opinion: The President, the Press, and the Polls during Watergate (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983). R. Neuman, M. Just and A. Crigler, Common Knowledge (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992). Pierre Laborie, ‘1940–1944: Double Think in France’, in France at War: Vichy and the Historians, eds. Sarah Fishman, Ioannis Sinanoglou and Laura L. Downs (Oxford: Berg, 2000), 183. Soroka, ‘Media, Public Opinion, and Foreign Policy’, 29. Bryan D. Jones, Reconceiving Decision-Making in Democratic Politics: Attention, Choice, and Public Policy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 125. There is consensus that by the interwar period, newspapers were the most common way of sourcing national and international news and thus were integral in ‘opinion formation’. Hucker, ‘International History’, 781.

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Methodology

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policy and wider public sentiment. Policy-makers wanted to be able to access and assess public opinion as part of the policy-making process. Yet, public opinion is not homogenous. The ‘public’ is made up of many more fragmented ‘publics’ with a range of opinions.28 What mattered was what policy-makers believed public opinion was, and how they thought it would impact the success of their policies. This also meant that some opinions carried more weight than others. As will become clear throughout this book, the public opinion of indigenous colonial populations rarely factored into the mindsets of decision-makers during this period. British and French policy-makers monitored public opinion in the colonies using their imperial intelligence services, especially in regard to anti-imperial nationalist groups.29 However, during the operations in question, indigenous colonial public opinion was only a significant factor in the Levant (Chapters 5, 7 and 8). British policy-makers relied on the press as a way to measure and influence (through official statements) public opinion. Although a range of new polling techniques were also being developed at the time, newspapers remained the preferred source for information gathering.30 Attempts by organisations such as Mass Observation (MO), whose work was carried out under the auspices of the Ministry of Information (MOI), represented only a part of society. MO diarists were largely ‘middle class, well read and articulate’ as well as left-of-centre politically.31 Policy-making documents such as memoranda and War Cabinet minutes as well as edited texts of broadcasts and press reports showed that British officials gathered their views on public opinion from a range of sources, both official and personal. The Ministry of Information analysed the local press and public opinion and assembled their findings in Home Intelligence Reports. Assessments of public opinion were also a regular feature in British War Cabinet meetings, which included speculations about the likelihood of broad support for a particular policy. In France, a series of public bodies was tasked with tracking and measuring public opinion. Their creation, in the early months of the war,

28 29

30 31

Daniel Hucker, Public Opinion and the End of Appeasement in Britain and France (Surrey: Ashgate Publishing Ltd., 2011), 1. For research on imperial intelligence gathering see, for instance, Martin Thomas, ‘French Intelligence Gathering in the Syrian Mandate, 1920–40’, Middle Eastern Studies 38, no. 1 (2002): 1–32. Martin Thomas, ‘The Gendarmerie, Information Collection, and Colonial Violence in French North Africa between the Wars’, Historical Reflections 36, no. 2 (2010), 76–96. Hucker, Public Opinion, 20. Sandra Koa Wing, ed., Mass Observation: Britain in the Second World War (London: The Folio Society, 2007), xiv.

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Introduction

showed that policy-makers took public sentiment seriously in theory, if not always in practice. On 29 July 1939, French Premier Édouard Daladier created the Commissariat Général à l’Information (French General Commissariat of Information) to carry out censorship and distribute information in France, the French Empire and further afield. Led by author, playwright and diplomat Jean Giraudoux, the Commissariat comprised two information agencies, one aimed at metropolitan and imperial France and the other the Service d’Information à l’Étranger (Foreign Information Service), at the rest of the world. In March 1940, Paul Reynaud succeeded Daladier as Premier. The Commissariat was restructured in April and became the Ministère de l’Information (Ministry of Information).32 The Ministry played a primary role in formulating public speeches and issuing press publications on the Franco-British position in the war. After the conclusion of the Franco-German armistice, in the unoccupied zone, Vichy officials from the intelligence section of the French police (Renseignements Généraux) measured local opinion by eavesdropping. The Service du Contrôle Technique gleaned its knowledge by intercepting letters and telephone calls.33 Vichy’s propaganda ministry, The Secrétariat Général à l’Information, oversaw radio, cinema and press propaganda. Prefects’ reports, which were sent to Vichy, painted a picture of regional opinion in both zones. After the armistice, British and Vichy officials carried on analysing each other’s press and public opinion. Foreign press commentary was conveyed by resident diplomatic officials to the Foreign Office in London. British officials also tried to influence French opinion through radio programming such as the BBC’s French service. In August 1941, the Political Warfare Executive took on the responsibility of distributing British messages to metropolitan France and the French Empire. The French Ministry of Foreign Affairs received reports on British media content from their overseas legations including Portugal and Ireland.34 After its creation on 10 December 1940, the Office Français d’Information was the press agency responsible for distributing official information from the Vichy government. In addition, intelligence summaries and political correspondence

32 33

34

Robert J. Young, Marketing Marianne: French Propaganda in America, 1900–1940 (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2003), 141–142. Roger Austin, ‘Propaganda and Public Opinion in Vichy France: The Department of Hérault, 1940–44’, European Studies Review 13 (1983), 456. For more on this service, see Roger Austin, ‘Surveillance and Intelligence under the Vichy Regime: The Service du Contrôle Technique, 1939–45’, Intelligence and National Security 1, no. 1 (1986): 123–137. The bulk of French analyses of the foreign press can be found at the MAE in 10GMII, Sub-Series Z and 9GMII, Sub-Series Y.

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Book Structure

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from French and British Foreign Office files summarised views of metropolitan and foreign reactions to particular high-profile events. The language that decision-makers used to describe the FrancoBritish relationship to the public and to justify policies that impacted this relationship was highly strategic. Before the Franco-German armistice, rhetoric stressed the unshakable bond of the Franco-British alliance. After the Franco-German armistice, it illustrated the divergence of Vichy French and British-Free French expectations for German victory or defeat. The imperial conflicts that followed the armistice, and the ways in which they were fought, both rhetorically and materially, were outcomes of this rupture. The rhetoric that policy-makers employed to justify or condemn these conflicts mobilised a combination of cultural, historical and emotive imagery. British rhetoric emphasised the inevitability of an Allied victory. It stressed the moral and ethical character of the policies it was using to reach this goal. A key outcome of this victory would be the restoration of France. Images of Britain and Free France as saviours of the metropole became justifications for incursions into Vichy French colonial territory. Vichy French rhetoric also drew on recognised images of Frenchness and Franco-British rivalry to combat British-Free French challenges to its sovereignty. Cultural symbols such as Joan of Arc were used to represent Vichy France as the ‘true’ France and Britain as France’s historic enemy and imperial rival. The relationships that developed between British, Vichy and Free French actors were subtle balancing acts. They were constantly being renegotiated, materially and rhetorically. The way in which France and Britain’s wartime relationship was constructed rhetorically has a great deal to say not only about the expectations that informed each actor’s policies but also about the more deeply rooted cultural and social attitudes that underpinned this process. French and British policies were a product of material capabilities. But they were also premised on less tangible factors such as public opinion and moral and ethical norms. They were influenced by external pressures, which included the demands of powerful neutral actors such as the United States. In this context, decision-makers were fighting to win approval for their respective wartime visions and the policies that would be used to achieve those visions. Rhetoric played a central role in this process. Book Structure This book is structured around eight chapters that examine seven critical points in the Franco-British relationship between 1940 and 1945. The selected case studies show how British-Vichy-Free French relations

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Introduction

evolved throughout the war, and they demonstrate that the French colonial empire played a decisive role in these shifts. Case studies aim to involve British, Vichy and Free French actors in order to illustrate the significance of competing sources of Frenchness and competing narratives of Franco-British rivalry and cooperation. They begin in Chapter  1 with the collapse of French and British military resistance and the conclusion of the Franco-German armistice. They conclude with de Gaulle’s triumphant return to Paris and his early attempts to formulate France’s post-war imperial policy. The intervening chapters explore the British bombardment of the French fleet at Mers el-Kébir (July 1940), Free French attempts to take Dakar from Vichy forces (September 1940), Allied landings in North Africa during Operation Torch (November 1942) and the British-Free French operations in the Levant states in 1941 and subsequently in 1943 and 1945. These crisis points illustrate the complexity of British, Free French and Vichy relationships while also demonstrating how the Franco-British relationship shifted throughout the course of the war. The very public and contentious nature of imperial clashes at Mers el-Kébir, Dakar, North Africa and the Levant make them ideal case studies as each provoked strong official and public reactions. Scholars may quibble with my choice of case studies. They may ask why some topics such as Franco-British cooperation in India, the New Hebrides and Cameroun or Franco-British views towards colonial armies do not feature in the analysis. These are indeed important questions. They have been addressed by scholars such as Akhila Yechury, Douglas Deleney and Jonathan Fennell.35 This book cannot, unfortunately, engage with every aspect of the imperial wartime experience, without becoming detached from its core narrative, that is, the evolution of wartime Franco-British relations seen through the dual lenses of rhetoric and empire. Together, the case studies identify what factors influenced French and British policy towards the French colonial empire. They explain how these

35

See, for instance, Akhila Yechury, ‘“La République Continue, Comme Par le Passé”: The Myths and Realities of the Resistance in French India’, Outre-Mers, Revue d’Histoire 103 (2015): 97–116. Douglas Delaney, The Imperial Army Project: Britain and the Land Forces of the Dominions and India, 1902–1945 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018). Jonathan Fennell, Fighting the People’s War: The British and Commonwealth Armies and the Second World War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019). Eric T. Jennings, ‘Britain and Free France in Africa, 1940–1943’, in British and French Colonialism in Africa, Asia and the Middle East, ed. James R. Fichter (Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 277–296. Jennings, Vichy in the Tropics. Jennings, Free French Africa.

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Book Structure

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influences were represented in the resulting policies and the rhetoric that accompanied them. This means that, inevitably, some voices and locations will feature more loudly in the narrative than others. Because the wartime imperial operations under scrutiny were planned in London, for instance, it is natural for some of the focus of the book to be on the British capital. It also explains why nationalist voices play a prominent role in the chapters on the Levant states, and why they are absent in others. Selected case studies effectively track the shifting nature of FrancoBritish relations during the war years while maintaining a relatively consistent geopolitical perspective: the focus is on high-profile colonial clashes throughout. Emphasis is also placed on initial invasions of colonial territory that involved British, Vichy and Free French actors. This is the best way to demonstrate how each side justified its role in or response to these colonial incursions. In the case of Mers el-Kébir, de Gaulle’s movement was only a few days old, thus limiting Free French involvement to a rhetorical one. The Free French also did not participate militarily in the Torch invasions. However, the debates surrounding this decision, including the offer of Madagascar’s administration as consolation and the Free French role in North Africa’s administration, demonstrate the complexity of Free France’s position in the conflict and the growing influence of American decision-makers. The chapters to come range from early British concerns surrounding French imperial possessions as exemplified by the violence of Mers el-Kébir through to the immediate post-war period. By 1945, colonial issues again played a crucial role in Franco-British relations, this time in the context of imminent exit from Middle Eastern mandated territories. Another advantage of ranging across the years 1940–1945 is to highlight the steady growth of American influence on European colonial affairs and the consequent French and British reactions to Rooseveltian anti-imperialist rhetoric. The organisation of this book highlights several unifying themes: the consistent rhetorical emphasis on Franco-British wartime solidarity achieved by delegitimising the Vichy government, the linking of empire with global power, legitimacy and national sovereignty, the symbolic value of ‘tough’ policies and the overarching role that rhetoric played in creating a conceptual framework in which policy-makers found their actions limited in real ways. Chapter 1 establishes a critical foundation for the case studies that follow. It introduces the nuances and complexities of the Franco-British relationship. It demonstrates the significance of images of FrancoBritish cooperation and rivalry that emerged through the events of the French defeat in June 1940. After the signing of the Franco-German armistice, two groups began to compete over who truly represented

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Introduction

France and French interests: Philippe Pétain’s metropolitan government and Charles de Gaulle’s fledgling London-based resistance movement. Both British and Gaullist rhetoric continued to stress continuity rather than division in the Franco-British relationship. It did so by deliberately severing the bulk of French popular opinion from the actions of the (un-French) Vichy government. These themes would be at the forefront of the imperial clashes that followed. However, maintaining images of alliance was not easy. This becomes clear in Chapters 4 and 5. British decision-makers wanted to preserve the French character of joint British-Free French operations in Dakar and the Levant to avoid accusations from Vichy that Britain was seeking to seize parts of the French Empire for itself. But these operations relied on overwhelming British military and political force. Britain was not always successful in trying to frame the operations as exclusively French actions. However, the motivations behind this policy were telling. They highlighted intangible elements of wartime policy, including the need to be perceived as a legitimate and ethical combatant. They also demonstrated that British decision-makers anticipated that France would take a place at the victor’s table after an Allied victory. Chapter 6 also stresses how important it was to be able to manage how wartime operations were portrayed. Despite significant British contributions in the 1942 North African Torch invasions, the operations were characterised and represented as American. This decision was premised on the assumption that visible British involvement would foster greater resistance based on longstanding Franco-British imperial rivalries. The imperial context highlights the value of overseas territory as a source of immediate legitimacy and a promise of post-war power. In Chapter 4, forces loyal to Pétain’s metropolitan government win a military and a rhetorical victory over de Gaulle’s Free French movement in the French Senegalese port of Dakar. Chapters 5, 7 and 8 are centred around the French Levantine mandates of Syria and Lebanon. Here, de Gaulle mobilised rhetoric that celebrated historic Franco-Levantine ties. Images of imperial unity alongside the Free French cause aimed to enhance the legitimacy of de Gaulle’s movement. However, de Gaulle’s attempts to preserve French influence in these territories by way of preferential treaties were met head on by nationalist movements that refused to comply with French demands. De Gaulle’s Levantine policies illustrated his commitment to consolidate France’s Empire as a means of ensuring French post-war power and influence. However, the internationalisation of nationalist claims in the Levant and widespread condemnation of heavy-handed French policies premised on violence and intimidation limited de Gaulle’s policy choices.

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Book Structure

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For Britain, maintaining French imperial territory in the midst of a global conflict introduced additional challenges. French colonies and mandates were captured under the banner of the Free French movement using British military resources. In the early days following the French defeat, Britain identified the French fleet and empire as the most immediate threat to its ability to conquer the Nazis. Chapters 2 and 3 explore the decision to bombard the French fleet at the French Algerian port of Mers el-Kébir. In British rhetoric, the bombardments were portrayed as one in a series of necessary and inevitable operations that would pave the way for Allied victory. Britain also hoped this firm policy towards the fleet would inspire American confidence in Britain and speed up the possibility of armed intervention. De Gaulle was forced to stifle his private anger over these events in favour of maintaining images of Franco-British unity. Throughout the war, de Gaulle relied upon Britain for material support and backing. Yet, the legitimacy of the Free French as the true representative of French interests was rooted in rhetoric stressing the independence of his movement. Preserving the appearance of Free French independence also impacted British policy. Despite having the ability (and sometimes willingness) to thwart de Gaulle’s wishes, British policy-makers were constrained by the need to maintain the rhetorical integrity of the Franco-British alliance. As the war progressed, de Gaulle’s aggressive policies in the French Levant made it difficult for Britain to manage the expectations of its own Middle Eastern territories, including Palestine and Iraq. The close of the European theatre brought to the fore debates over the future of FrancoBritish influence in their respective Middle Eastern mandates. Chapter 8 examines the French bombardment of Damascus in May 1945. This was a last-ditch effort to force nationalist movements to concede to French demands, making independence contingent on the preservation of French cultural, economic and strategic links. This final chapter brings the central themes of this book full circle. The defeat of Germany saw de Gaulle’s triumphant return to France as the leader of its provisional government. At the same time, the future of empire remained a central tenet of Gaullist policy, an assurance of global power and influence. The context that confronted both Britain and France in 1945 was, however, starkly different from that of 1940. The internationalisation of imperial issues through forums such as the San Francisco Conference (the birthplace of the United Nations) brought new legitimacy to the demands of nationalist movements and public condemnation of violent imperial policies. Whereas British and Free French policy-makers had relied on the moral credibility of their wartime policies towards the French Empire, in 1945, nationalist movements used this moral rhetoric to their own advantage.

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Introduction

Policy is not determined by material resources alone. Decision-makers also account for intangible factors that include public opinion, prestige and influence. Policy-making is, in other words, ‘a matter of rhetoric and manoeuvre’.36 The strategic language that is used to defend, debate or disparage a particular policy is just as important as the material resources used to fulfil it. An essential part of the policy-making process is being able to control the narrative around those choices. Decision-makers try to anticipate public reactions to their policies. Their speculations influence how decisions are made and how their outcomes are portrayed and justified. Throughout the Second World War, leaders in Britain and France recognised that policy justifications were a critical part of the decisionmaking process. Tension between rhetoric and underlying strategic and economic policies limited both British and French policy options. On all sides, British, Free French and Vichy leaders mobilised rhetoric to justify controversial policies, to contest the legitimacy of their rivals’ entitlements to imperial or sovereign rights and to lay claim to foreign territory. On all sides, rhetoric mattered. The Second World War was a war of words, as much as one of guns and steel.

36

Maurice Cowling. The Impact of Labour 1920–1924: The Beginning of Modern British Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971), 4.

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From the Dunkirk Evacuations to the Franco-German Armistice Renegotiating the Franco-British Alliance

On 5 June 1940, French Ambassador to London, Charles Corbin sent a report to the Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (Ministry of Foreign Affairs). In it, he flagged up possible wrinkles in the Franco-British partnership. On the one hand, Corbin praised the spirit of comradery displayed by British military leadership in support of the Franco-British alliance. On the other hand, he worried that Britain’s tendency to look inward would lead to a shift in focus away from the defence of Europe in favour of the British Isles.1 Corbin’s note hinted at the complexities of Franco-British cooperation. Between late May and June 1940, policy-makers in Britain and France were constantly debating and subtly reconstructing this multifaceted relationship. Rhetoric was intrinsic to this process of alliance refinement and, once France confronted defeat, helped facilitate a shift in British popular perceptions of the war in the West as a uniquely British struggle. At the same time, rhetorical arguments provided the framework within which the identity and future of France was reconceptualised: in France, in its empire and in Britain too. In the years leading up to the outbreak of war in 1939, the Franco-British relationship was never straightforward. The Entente Cordiale endured throughout largely due to the exclusion of a formal – and reciprocal – military alliance. French negotiations with Britain in 1919 and again in 1921, which attempted to establish a formal alliance, were not successful. Even though French security policies shifted between 1919 and 1925 from a preference for a traditional military alliance to a wider European system of arbitration networks and mutual assistance pacts, public and parliamentary opinion in Britain continued to shy away from binding continental commitments.2 British decision-makers were wary of the instability that was 1 2

Corbin to Ministère des Affaires Étrangères, 5 June 1940, Personal Papers of Charles Corbin, 391PAAP/2, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (henceforth MAE). J. F. V. Keiger, ‘“Perfidious Albion?” French Perceptions of Britain as an Ally after the First World War’, in Knowing Your Friends: Intelligence inside Alliances and Coalitions from 1914 to the Cold War, ed. Martin S. Alexander (London: Frank Cass, 1998), 40. Peter Jackson, ‘French Security and a British “Continental Commitment” after the First World War: A Reassessment’, The English Historical Review 126, no. 519 (2011): 345.

19

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From the Dunkirk Evacuations to the Franco-German Armistice

endemic to French politics in the interwar years. Between 1932 and 1940, the average lifespan of a French Cabinet was only four months.3 The unrest that dogged Leon Blum’s Socialist government in 1936 caused further scepticism as to the desirability of building closer ties with France. Joseph Paul-Boncour, then serving as France’s permanent delegate to the League of Nations, warned British Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden that the rapid development of anti-French and anti-British sentiment in both of their nations was jeopardising future cooperation.4 Conservative MP Viscount Cranborne (nicknamed Bobbety) met the British ambassador George Clerk in Paris that September, where both agreed that ‘France must be written off as a force in international affairs for some time to come’.5 Despite these interwar tensions, 1939 saw unprecedented levels of cooperation. The Supreme War Council was convened. It was accompanied by financial and economic coordination designed to make the Franco-British alliance, concluded six months earlier, a meaningful reality.6 Following the German invasion of the Low Countries on 10 May 1940, events moved quickly. In the early morning hours of 17 June, France requested armistice terms with Germany. Spanish dictator Francisco Franco served as an intermediary. In the days following this request, uncertainty persisted on both sides. Doubts were sustained by coalescing around the belief – perhaps more hope than expectation – that French officials might yet proceed to North Africa to continue the struggle from the heart of their African empire. Fears that Germany would move swiftly to secure the French Empire and France’s oceanic fleet only increased official anxiety in Britain about the choices the French government, which by then had evacuated from Paris to Bordeaux, might make. The Franco-German and Franco-Italian armistices went into effect on 25 June. From this moment onwards, academics and political figures alike have been trying to explain why Allied forces were overwhelmed so rapidly and why the French defence system failed. Initially, blame literature flourished. It attempted to morally condemn the Third Republic and provide instructions on how to avoid another similar catastrophe.7 Marc 3 4 5 6

7

Mark Mazower, Dark Continent: Europe’s Twentieth Century (London: Penguin, 1999), 18. Eden to Foreign Office, 17 April 1936, FO 954/8A/18, The National Archives (henceforth TNA). Cranborne to Eden, 16 September 1936, FO 954/8A/35, TNA. Philip Bell, ‘Entente Broken and Renewed: Britain and France, 1940–1945’, in AngloFrench Relations in the Twentieth Century: Rivalry and Cooperation, eds. Alan Sharp and Glyn Stone (London: Routledge, 2000), 223. Most notably, Andre Geraud’s The Gravediggers of France, Andre Simon’s J’Accuse! The Men Who Betrayed France and Louis Levy’s The Truth about France. Referenced from Julian Jackson, The Fall of France: The Nazi Invasion of 1940 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 3.

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From the Dunkirk Evacuations to the Franco-German Armistice

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Bloch’s Strange Defeat, published in 1949, was influenced by his firsthand experience of the defeat. Bloch argued that when the war broke out in 1939, France was unprepared. He blamed this state of affairs on social fissures and the weakness of the French political structure, which ‘had already begun to give off the smell of a dry-rot’.8 Narratives of interwar decline have featured prominently in explanations of French defeat and the collapse of the Third Republic.9 They were central to the rhetoric of Vichy and the Révolution Nationale. However, distaste for the Third Republic, and a sense of relief at its demise, were also common attitudes amongst Free French officials.10 The initial consensus, in both scholarly and political circles, was that France was simply outnumbered. German forces had more men and better materials.11 This argument became more nuanced in the decades after the conflict when scholars began to argue that a combination of French and German tactical strategies and leadership decisions impacted military outcomes.12 Most recently, Alan Allport has argued that the failure to effectively counter-attack German bridgeheads established over the Meuse between 14 and 16 May was decisive in the collapse of the Third Republic.13 More than sixty years on, the circumstances surrounding the armistice and the attitudes of French and British policy-makers in its aftermath remain a topic of debate. Interpretations that attempted to pin

8 9

10 11 12

13

Marc Bloch, Strange Defeat: A Statement of Evidence Written in 1940 (London: Oxford University Press, 1949), 157. Peter Jackson, ‘Post-War Politics and the Historiography of French Strategy and Diplomacy before the Second World War’, History Compass 4, no. 5 (2006): 871. See, for instance, Jean-Baptiste Duroselle, La Décadence 1932–1939 (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1979). Eugen Weber, The Hollow Years: France in the 1930s (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1994). Jay Winter and Antoine Prost, René Cassin and Human Rights: From the Great War to the Universal Declaration (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 118. Joel Blatt, ‘Introduction’, in The French Defeat of 1940: Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt (Providence, RI: Berghahn Books, 1998), 2. See, for instance, Robert Aron, The Century of Total War, trans. E. W. Dickes and O. S. Griffiths (London: Praeger, 1954), 46. Robert Doughty, The Breaking Point: Sedan and the Fall of France, 1940 (Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1990). Ernest May, Strange Victory: Hitler’s Conquest of France (New York: Hill and Wang, 2000), 10. William Keylor, ‘France and the Illusion of American Support: 1919–1940’, in The French Defeat of 1940: Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt (Providence, RI: Berghahn Books, 1998), 204–244. Martin Alexander, ‘“Fighting to the Last Frenchman?” Reflections of the BEF Deployment to France and the Strains in the Franco-British Alliance, 1939–1940’, in The French Defeat of 1940: Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt (Providence, RI: Berghahn Books, 1998), 296–326. Jackson, The Fall of France. Peter Jackson, France and the Nazi Menace: Intelligence and Policy Making 1933–1939 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). Alan Allport, Britain at Bay: The Epic Story of the Second World War: 1938–1941 (London: Profile Books, 2020), 254.

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the cause of the defeat on societal malaise were subject to revision – but, crucially, not to outright rejection – in the 1970s. That Philip Nord’s 2015 book France 1940 continues to challenge long-standing perceptions of national decadence is proof of the extent to which the original explanation has clung on.14 Contemporary research has broadened explanations of defeat by ascribing it to a more complex variety of political, economic and military factors. Scholars have assessed the defeat from a wider chronology that includes interwar French and British politics and policies of appeasement and the manner in which both nations envisaged a future conflict.15 J.-L. Crémieux-Brilhac’s two-volume study Les Français de l’an 40 (The French in 1940), published in 1990, remains one of the most ambitious and comprehensive examples of this wider and more nuanced interpretation. Olivier Wieviorka, Robert Frank and Stanley Hoffmann have encouraged scholars to not only revisit the causes of the French defeat but also consider how it is remembered on both sides of the Channel.16 Franco-British rather than exclusively French narratives of 1940 are essential to understanding the defeat itself, but also how it impacted the Franco-British alliance in the five years that followed. Integrating empire into this story captures a still wider set of factors (imperial rivalry, sovereignty and anti-imperial nationalism) that influenced the conflict, and the narratives that developed around the conflict, in fundamental ways. This chapter tracks the development of Franco-British rhetoric leading up to and following the request for and acceptance of a Franco-German armistice. It argues that the collapse of French military resistance in June 1940 forced each side to redefine its position within the altered strategic context of France’s surrender. The Franco-German armistice had hugely different consequences for France and Britain. Each side interpreted and 14

15

16

Philip Nord, France 1940: Defending the Republic (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2015). See the introduction for an especially good summary of the present historiography explaining the French defeat in 1940. See, for instance, Stanley Hoffman, Decline or Renewal? France since the 1930s (New York: The Viking Press, 1974). Julian Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), Chapter 5. Martin Thomas, Britain, France and Appeasement: Anglo-French Relations in the Popular Front Era (London: Berg, 1997). Talbot Imlay, Facing the Second World War: Strategy, Politics and Economics in Britain and France 1938–1940 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 5. Stanley Hoffmann, ‘The Trauma of 1940: A Disaster and Its Traces’, in The French Defeat of 1940: Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt (Providence, RI: Berghahn Books, 1998), 354–371. Olivier Wierviorka, La Mémoire Désunie: Le Souvenir Politique des Années Sombres, de la Libération à nos Jours (Paris: Le Seuil, 2010). Robert Frank, ‘The Second World War through French and British Eyes’, in Britain and France in Two World Wars: Truth, Myth and Memory, eds. Robert Tombs and Emile Chabal (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 179–191.

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explained the French defeat in very different terms. Each side offered a very different vision of France’s future. June 1940 would, in retrospect, become the point at which Britain’s wartime experience parted ways with Marshal Pétain’s metropolitan French government. However, in the midst of the crisis, the immediate situation was much less clear. The collapse of France was less of a surprise than a new, and initially uncertain, phase of the conflict, in which alliances had to be realigned and redefined. Decision-makers in Britain and metropolitan France attempted to make sense of the defeat by laying blame upon a specific group of men, a national illness or the traitorous actions of the Belgian King, Leopold. Pétain promised French renewal in the wake of defeat while British rhetoric guaranteed victory against Nazi Germany and the restoration of the French state. General Charles de Gaulle’s Free French movement challenged the idea of a French capitulation, proposing continued French resistance and a continuation of the Franco-British alliance. British and Free French challenges to the legitimacy of Pétain’s government were tied to strategic concerns such as the fate of the French fleet and the loyalty of the French Empire. They also reflected attempts to establish the credibility of their actions on a wider scale: in the eyes of their respective empires, the United States and their own publics. The imagery and arguments that were established during this period of extreme uncertainty formed the framework around which policy-makers and resistance movements would take sides and justify their actions over the next five years. From the lead up to the Dunkirk evacuations in late May until the conclusion of the Franco-German armistice a month later, each side gradually and tentatively redefined the conflict to fit with its new status either as a belligerent or a (proposed) neutral actor. During this period, rhetoric was mobilised to justify or criticise the Franco-German armistice and the legitimacy of Pétain’s metropolitan government. In both France and Britain, policy-makers prepared to defend their respective visions for the future, whether inside or outside of the conflict. As the Axis forces swept through France in 1940, British and French political actors recognised the need to justify important decisions through official announcements and carefully crafted speeches. This rhetoric mattered because policy-makers believed in its ability to shape public sentiment locally and globally. Rhetoric was a way to frame and defend strategic actions and to indicate how those choices would determine the future of each nation. The broader themes of morality, decay, rebirth and justice that suffused early interpretations of the French defeat, the ongoing British struggle and the Franco-German armistice reflected how policy-makers attempted to impose a sense of certainty in a highly uncertain context.

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Expectations of Victory Well before the conflict developed into the global struggle it became, British and French policy-makers were planning how to sustain morale and active participation in the war effort at home. As early as April 1939, a British Cabinet report identified the need to personalise propaganda messages, recognising differences in regional attitudes and viewpoints. In regard to the actual persuasive power of such a campaign, the report speculated: ‘The English people, being, in the broadest sense, idealistic and illogical in temperament, are probably at least averagely susceptible to propaganda (more so than the French)’.17 In France, the creation of the Service Général d’Information similarly served to conduct wartime operations ‘in the moral and psychological domain  …’.18 More than a year later, in late May 1940, British officials continued to recognise the importance of maintaining public confidence through official statements and communications. Messages on both sides of the Channel promised that no matter how difficult the struggle, final victory was only a matter of time. This notion of inevitable victory would remain at the heart of British rhetoric throughout the conflict. British policy in late May was balanced between two contradictory approaches. First, it recognised the possibility of French defeat. This led to efforts to preserve resources for home defence. Second, defensive preparations were carried out alongside sustained efforts to bolster French and British morale in order to continue the war. Public announcements dismissed speculations about strains in the Franco-British alliance. They continued to exaggerate RAF successes in engaging with the enemy and providing air support for the evacuations at Dunkirk. By late May, however, images of Allied military strength were foundering under the weight of the German advance. When Churchill visited Paris on 16 May, he found French Premier Paul Reynaud in a state of panic, claiming that the war was lost. British Foreign Office intelligence concluded that the German breakthrough at Sedan had resulted in ‘a severe shock … to the whole of French public opinion’.19 The gravity of the military situation contributed to the British decision to prepare for the possibility of a French withdrawal. It also forced decision-makers to consider the likelihood that Britain and its empire could continue the war without the support of French forces. The now 17 18 19

‘International Propaganda and Broadcasting Enquiry, Possible Lines of Activity Now Open to the Home Publicity Enquiry’,12 April 1939, CAB 102/374, TNA. ‘Instructions pour la création du Service Général d’Information’, 15 June 1940, F/41/13-F/41-14, Archives Nationales [henceforth AN]. Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 22 May 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA.

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infamous report ‘British Strategy in a Certain Eventuality’ argued that the British people could stand up to the strain of aerial bombardment and suggested that economic warfare could be leveraged to achieve a British victory.20 By 25 May, French policy-makers were also considering the possibility of withdrawal. Possible options were discussed within the Comité de Guerre (War Committee).21 The progression of Allied military fortunes from late May had been well studied and will not be examined in detail here. Rather, the aim is to focus upon the subtle rhetorical shifts that began to take place as each player started to renegotiate its place in or outside of the conflict. These shifts were important because the rhetoric that emerged would be central to the wartime discourse of all three actors – British, Vichy and Free French. Contradictions between official statements and behind the scenes actions were a product of the complexity and uncertainty that pervaded this period. While Britain prepared to withhold resources for the defence of the island, it mobilised a contrary rhetoric of grand gestures and proclamations in an effort to stave off French withdrawal as long as possible. On both sides, statements praised the strength of the Franco-British alliance even as tensions multiplied behind closed doors. Nearly two weeks after German forces had invaded the Low Countries and breached French defences, the Franco-British alliance appeared to be holding together. Reynaud made a series of addresses in the French Senate, which, although grave, professed a renewed sense of purpose. Despite French General Maurice Gamelin’s sterling reputation as the man who had turned back the Germans at the 1914 Battle of the Marne and salvaged French affairs during the 1925 Druze revolt in Syria, Reynaud replaced him with General Maxime Weygand on 19 May. Weygand proclaimed that he was ‘full of confidence provided everyone does his duty with a fierce energy’.22 However, as the German armies approached the Channel ports, the situation appeared bleak. On 26 May, Churchill gave the order to begin evacuating the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) at Dunkirk as part of Operation Dynamo. This order, which acknowledged the seriousness of events on the ground, contrasted sharply with positive press coverage of Allied fighting. The tone of the French press was optimistic, and it also praised British contributions. Justice wrote, ‘The French are courageous. The British manly and tenacious. With such qualities associated for the triumph 20 21 22

‘British Strategy in a Certain Eventuality’, Report by the Chiefs of Staff, 25 May 1940, CAB 66/7/48, TNA. Bell, ‘Entente Broken and Renewed’, 225–226. R. Campbell to Foreign Office, 22 May 1940, FO 371/24310, TNA.

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of the same ideal, we are invincible’.23 British Minister of Information Duff Cooper made similar assurances in a Home Service broadcast on 21 May. Regardless of setbacks, he argued, ‘The end of this battle, whatever it may be, cannot entail the defeat of Great Britain or France in the war’.24 This observation of the inevitability of victory based upon moral ideals rather than military or material superiority was a key component of first Franco-British and later British and Free French rhetoric. These types of moral arguments also provided a sense of clarity to the conflict, by contrasting Franco-British righteousness with German wickedness.25 Metropolitan French, or Vichy rhetoric, to the contrary, would focus upon explaining the French defeat as a product of material inferiority and social decadence. Prior to this divergence, both French and British policy-makers supported and made claims that eventual victory was still assured. The capitulation of King Leopold of Belgium on 28 May, although a disaster militarily, was an opportunity for French and British sources to issue renewed assurances of victory. These assurances were fuelled by disgust over Leopold’s immoral and traitorous actions. Reynaud’s broadcast in response to the capitulation – ‘Our faith in victory remains complete’ – was consistent with the optimism present throughout the mass media and in public opinion reports.26 As the evacuations progressed, the British press continued to cite its approval of Weygand and the belief that strong Allied resistance was wearing down their German rivals.27 Reports from France also remained optimistic, stating that lines on the Somme and Aisne would be held firmly.28 In fact, Cooper believed that public sentiment was too optimistic and urged the War Cabinet to make a frank public statement via the BBC. He feared that military disaster at Dunkirk would crush public optimism and discredit promises of eventual victory.29 There was little belief within parliament that the evacuations had any hope of success. Churchill estimated that no more than 50,000 individuals would be taken off.30 Weygand recalled in his 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

R. Campbell to Foreign Office, 27 May 1940, FO 371/24310, TNA. ‘The Situation – As It Is Tonight’, Home Service Broadcast, 21 May 1940, DUFC 8/1/20, Churchill Archive Centre [henceforth CCAC]. Michael Bess, Choices under Fire: Moral Dimensions of World War II (New York: Vintage Books, 2006), 3. R. Campbell to Foreign Office, 28 May 1940, FO 371/24310, TNA. J. L. Garvin, ‘Britain at Bay: Our Army and Its Bases’, Observer, 26 May 1940, 6. ‘“Full Blooded” Offensives Repulsed by Allies’, The Guardian, 27 May 1940, 5. R. Campbell to Foreign Office, 29 May 1940, FO 371/24310, TNA. Cabinet Conclusion, 28 May 1940, CAB 65/7/39, TNA. John Lukacs, Five Days in London, May 1940 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1999), 175.

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own memoirs that Reynaud had argued for equal evacuation of French and British troops in order to avoid compromising public perceptions of the future of the alliance.31 French and British officials followed a policy of withholding information from the public in order to avoid massive swings either towards over optimism or deep pessimism. Official pronouncements avoided speculations concerning the likely success or failure of the evacuations. Political rhetoric focussed instead on the spectre of ultimate victory in the future. Official statements and broadcasts were duplicated in the press on both sides as a way to demonstrate continued resolve in the conflict and the alliance.32 These intense efforts were aimed at creating a framework in which the public could not conceive the possibility of defeat. Cooper broadcast on 28 May, noting the seriousness of the situation, but offering the belief that ‘there should be no loss of complete confidence in our ability to achieve ultimate victory’.33 Reynaud broadcast on the same day. He shifted blame away from French and British forces by pointing out that the Belgian withdrawal had opened the Dunkirk route to German divisions.34 Drawing out the imagery employed by both sides during the final days of May highlights the role that rhetoric played in strengthening the idea of the Franco-British alliance and shoring up expectations of an eventual Allied victory. Maintaining images of Allied strength impacted policy-making in concrete ways. On this basis, British decision-makers argued against Reynaud’s request to petition the United States directly for assistance. The Foreign Office criticised the idea as a show of weakness and panic. It would be more expedient, it argued, to make a public statement regarding British commitment to the fight ahead.35 War Cabinet discussions concluded that such an appeal would only ‘confirm American fears as to our weakness and would not produce the desired effect’.36 Despite the confident tone of French and British rhetoric, the partnership was being strained by the uncertainty of the military situation on the ground. Behind closed doors, both French and British decision-makers 31 32

33 34 35 36

Maxime Weygand, Recalled to Service, trans. E. W. Dickes (Melbourne: William Heinemann Ltd., 1952), 87. ‘Les commandements britannique et français ont pris leurs dispositions’, Echo d’Alger, 29 May 1940, 1. ‘Reynaud Tells France: Leopold’s Act No Precedent in History’, The Guardian, 29 May 1940, 7. ‘Belgian Capitulation’, Home Service Programme, 28 May 1940, DUFC 8/2/17, CCAC. ‘Le discours radiodiffusé de M. Paul Reynaud’, Le Temps, 29 May 1940, 1. Llewellyn Woodward, British Foreign Policy in the Second World War (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1962), 54. War Cabinet 145 (40) Conclusions, 28 May 1940, CAB 65/7/40, TNA.

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acknowledged the possibility that France could be forced to withdraw from the conflict. Even as this possibility was entertained, it had to be suppressed publicly to encourage continued cooperation. The difficulty of maintaining such a contradictory policy in the long term was articulated in a message from Churchill. Circulated within the government, it made it clear that speculations over the French making a separate peace should not be entertained. However, regardless of what happened in the coming weeks, the note added, Britain would continue the fight.37 British policy in the midst and immediate aftermath of Operation Dynamo thus aimed to keep French forces in the war as long as possible. However, rhetoric that celebrated the Franco-British alliance and promised victory was not always backed up by material support. Wartime resources were increasingly being set aside for home defence. At the same time, senior British officials were making the case that the British would be better off without their French partners. Permanent Undersecretary for Foreign Affairs Alexander Cadogan argued that sending British planes to France would leave Britain defenceless. He also made the more emotive claim that the French were ‘quite helpless and [had] no stomach for the fight’.38 The Dunkirk operations evacuated 316,663 men between 26 May and 4 June. They were viewed as a success, and the outcome was greeted with a great deal of relief. Policy-makers found themselves struggling to moderate the public response.39 Although successful as a withdrawal operation, decision-makers hoped to frame the event as a precursor for the difficult fight ahead. The coming days saw renewed confidence amongst the British public. Criticisms of the French diminished and confidence in the alliance increased. However, opinion reports suggested that morale was almost ‘too good’ and that elation directed at the return of the BEF had resulted in a failure to understand the significance of the event.40 Interpreting the Dunkirk Evacuations For as long as the success of the evacuations remained unlikely, British public opinion was critical of French armed forces. The British Ministry of Information (MOI) noted a tendency to criticise the French, based on

37 38 39 40

Circulation, Churchill, 29 May 1940, PREM 4/68/9, TNA. Alexander Cadogan, 31 May 1940, The Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan 1938–1945, ed. David Dilks (London: Cassell, 1971), 293. ‘Official Report from Operation Dynamo’, Office of the Flag Officer Commanding, Dover, 18 June 1940, SMVL 7, CCAC. ‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 3 June 1940, INF 1/264, TNA.

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rumours of France’s likely capitulation.41 After the evacuations were carried off successfully, criticism declined sharply. Churchill described public sentiment as wholly confident in the eventuality of victory: ‘There was a white glow, overpowering, sublime, which ran through our island from end to end’.42 Taking a more circumspect view, MOI analysts believed that this decline was in part due to positive press treatment of the fighting abilities of the French army.43 Many press reports emphasised the heroic action of the men taking part in the evacuations, leaving no doubt as to the solidity of the Franco-British relationship. One article cited the ‘Anglo-French brotherhood’ as ‘a demonstration of the supreme vitality of the youth of the two countries’.44 The French press also focussed upon the heroic efforts of French and British forces. On the other hand, British author and journalist J. B. Priestley’s 5 June broadcast claimed that the ability to carry out the operations when failure loomed was a sign of that special English ability to right a ‘miserable blunder’.45 In the days that followed, claims of the superiority of the RAF came under scrutiny, calling into question the credibility of government and press rhetoric. As the initial relief that had accompanied the success of the evacuations wore away, doubts over the ability of French forces to hold out in the long term resurfaced. Leo Amery, newly appointed to the India Office, had high praise for Churchill as a war leader and expressed his jubilation over the success of the Dunkirk evacuations. But by early June, he wrote of his own and Churchill’s fear that the French line would break under attack, leading directly to France’s exit from the war.46 Churchill’s private secretary John Colville recorded in his diary that Reynaud’s frequent telephone calls requesting more planes and troops were a source of annoyance to Churchill, who was focussed upon consolidating the home front and preserving resources for its defence. Yet, Churchill remained cognisant of the need to sustain French morale, giving it ‘no excuse for a collapse’.47 Churchill’s desire to bolster French resolve went hand in hand with his

41 42 43 44 45

46 47

‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 27 May 1940 (includes 26), INF 1/264, TNA. Winston S. Churchill, The Second World War, vol. 2, Their Finest Hour (London: Cassell & Co. Ltd, 1949), 88. ‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 31 May 1940, INF 1/264, TNA. Our Own Correspondent, ‘Anglo-French Brotherhood’s Supreme Example: Profound Effect of Dunkirk Battle’, The Guardian, 1 June 1940, 9. J. B. Priestley, ‘Broadcast from June 5 1940’, taken from Sonya O. Rose, Which People’s War? National Identity and Citizenship in Britain 1939–1945 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 3. Leo Amery, Transcribed Diary, 4 June 1940, AMEL 7/34, CCAC. Sir John Colville, Private Diaries, 1 June 1940, CLVL 1/2, CCAC.

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efforts to strengthen public confidence at home. At the same time that officials were casting doubts on the durability of the French war effort, public criticism in Britain was building in response to reports surrounding the lack of air support provided during the evacuations. Grandiose claims about the feats of the RAF contradicted the stories of returning soldiers.48 The MOI reported that first-hand stories from returning troops were casting doubts over the truthfulness of the broadcasts and press reports recounting RAF feats.49 Public frustrations over the lack of accurate news and criticisms over official censorship were not ignored. In the wake of the Dunkirk evacuations, British officials took note of how and why official rhetoric was being criticised. The public opinion analyses compiled through the MOI stressed the value that the public placed upon having access to pragmatic accounts of events. In turn, the care that leading officials began to take in drafting justifications for potentially controversial policies was a sign of the perceived importance of public opinion and by association, the rhetoric that helped shape those opinions. The success of the evacuations did rally spirits in the short term. In Britain, they also led to renewed support for the Franco-British alliance. Despite how the evacuations may be remembered today, in 1940, French and British rhetoric alike viewed them as a joint success. The ‘Spirit of Dunkirk’ was not always an exclusively British memory. As Martin Alexander has pointed out, Dunkirk, while rapidly becoming proof of the British ability to muddle through, was initially recognised by British civilians as an episode in which the French had taken the brunt of the attack.50 Likewise, French reactions in early June remained positive, referencing the glorious feats and resistance of the combined French and British fighting forces.51 As was the case before the evacuations were carried off, depictions of the Franco-British alliance were rooted in the idea that final victory was only a matter of time. These images of inevitable victory were not based upon material superiority or military preparedness. Rather, they were rooted in moralising language that described the conflict in binaries of good vs. evil or man vs. machine. In the British

48

49 50

51

‘Towards the End in Flanders: Bulk of BEF Withdrawn, German Air Raids in the South of France, Another 113 Planes Fall to RAF’, The Guardian, 3 June 1940, 5. ‘4 to 1 Gains by RAF: Dunkirk Air Battles 169 Nazi Planes in 3 Days’, The Guardian, 3 June 1940, 5. ‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 3 June 1940, INF 1/264, TNA. Martin S. Alexander, ‘Dunkirk in Military Operations, Myths and Memories’, in Britain and France in Two World Wars: Truth, Myth and Memory, eds. Robert Tombs and Emile Chabal (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 100. ‘Les opérations militaires: La belle résistance de Dunkerque’, Le Temps, 3 June 1940, 1.

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case, these depictions also drew liberally from the past, holding up historic British victories as guarantees of future ones. This kind of language was evident in First Lord of the Admiralty, A. V. Alexander’s empire broadcast, which portrayed the Germans as sadistic murderers. We have proved to the world what we ourselves have always known – that the free men of the democracies are man for man superior, not merely to the masses of German infantry herded into the fight, but also to the specially trained fanatics of the German shock troops whose minds have been systematically perverted in order to make them ruthless killers of innocent men, women and children.52

Reports in the French and British press also celebrated Dunkirk. Stories of heroism and Allied unity were used as proof of future military successes. One French article described with emotion the scene as heroes disembarked in England.53 Broadcasts and news stories aligned American opinion with French and British efforts, arguing that the resolve of the BEF was responsible for the success of the evacuations. The BEF’s ‘refusal to accept defeat’ was ‘the guarantee of final victory’.54 Reproducing American praise for the evacuations was a way to highlight their success. They also legitimised wider Allied aims by linking them to the opinion of a powerful ‘neutral’ state.55 The high praise evident in the mass media and recorded in estimates of public opinion once again left some unease in political circles. It was difficult to strike a balance between public optimism and complacence. And Franco-British fighting capabilities were now severely restricted as a result of the withdrawals. Within the French government, internal critique of British actions was common. Paul Morand, director of the French Mission for Economic Warfare in London, observed that in the Quai d’Orsay, opinion was that British forces had left France for good. Morand himself argued that things would work themselves out between the allies, but noted that something felt different: ‘… j’ai senti que la BEF passait au second plan et le Home Front aux premier’.56 The disputes were kept out of public view so as not to cast doubt on the strength

52 53 54

55 56

‘Broadcasts to the Empire’, 12 June 1940, AVAR 13/2, CCAC. ‘La bataille de Dunkerque: Les héros des Flandres débarquent à Londres’, L’Echo d’Alger, 3 June 1940, 1. ‘The “Battle of the Ports”: Mr. Eden’s Stirring Story of the Feat of the BEF’, The Guardian, 3 June 1940, 6. ‘“Triumph of an Army”: Four-Fifths of BEF Saved, Mr. Eden’s Tribute’, The Times, 3 June 1940, 3. ‘L’épopée des Flandres a frappé d’admiration l’opinion américaine’, Echo d’Alger, 4 June 1940, 1. Paul Morand, Journal de Guerre: Londres-Paris-Vichy 1939–1943, ed. Bénédicte Vergez-Chaignon (Paris: Gallimard, 2020), 225.

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of the alliance.57 Victory was conceptualised within the framework of the Franco-British alliance, which meant that suppressing internal disputes was essential to ensuring the legitimacy of these promises. Mass Observation (MO) diarists from London, who had been tasked with reporting on their own sentiments and observing attitudes around them, remained generally optimistic. They wrote that others also interpreted Dunkirk as a great achievement. A London shopkeeper observed that citizens appeared calmer than in previous months.58 These observations fostered fears that the evacuations were being misinterpreted as a victory over rather than an escape from enemy forces. Calls for revenge following German air raids on Paris on 4 June led the MOI to conclude that the British public had no real understanding of the potential consequences of retaliatory raids on Germany.59 Reports recommended correcting interpretations of Dunkirk, which tended to see the retreat as not only a victory but as a ‘lasting achievement’ and a sign that ‘we cannot ultimately be beaten’.60 Churchill’s Commons speech, published widely on 5 June, attempted to focus attention towards the longer struggle ahead. Although the tone of the address was widely praised in the press, the MOI reported a slight increase in anti-French sentiment, attributed to Churchill’s references to fighting alone.61 Churchill’s address was published widely in the French press, as was praise for the orderly manner in which the evacuations had been carried out.62 By 10 June, the early jubilation that had greeted the evacuations was wearing off, replaced in official circles by a sense of growing unease. Reynaud’s 5 June Cabinet shuffle had brought Paul Baudouin and Charles de Gaulle to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Ministry of Defence, respectively. It had also provided the opportunity to remove Reynaud’s nemesis in the Foreign Ministry, the former Premier, Edouard Daladier. However, Reynaud’s changes did little to quash growing defeatist sentiment. On 10 June, the French government left Paris for Tours and declared Paris an open city. German troops would occupy the French capital four days later. On 15 June, by which time the French government had evacuated to the Loire region, British Ambassador Sir Ronald Campbell reported to the Foreign Office that Reynaud was making 57 58 59 60 61 62

Richard Griffiths, Marshal Pétain (London: Constable, 1970), 231. Mass Observation Diary 5039.3, 29 May 1940, Mass Observation Archives [henceforth MOA]. ‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 4 June 1940, INF 1/264, TNA. Ibid. ‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 5 June 1940, INF 1/264, TNA. ‘La fin de la bataille des Flandres’, Le Temps, 6 June 1940, 1. ‘Les dernières forces de terre et de mer ont quitté Dunkerque en bon ordre’, L’Echo d’Alger, 5 June 1940, 1.

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France’s continuing war effort contingent upon an American promise to enter the war at an early date. Reynaud had telegraphed President Roosevelt to request such a commitment on 13 June. The telegram symbolised the rapid deterioration of the Allied war effort in June and the weakening of the Franco-British alliance. In the days leading up to the French armistice request, British policy reflected the uncertainty of France’s position within the wider wartime context. We know that decision-makers recognised the possibility that France could withdraw from the conflict. Campbell and Churchill’s personal representative to Reynaud, Edward Spears, drew up plans to obtain the scuttling of the French fleet in the event that France could not carry on.63 However, policy-makers also appreciated the importance of maintaining the appearance of a joint war effort for as long as possible. This policy relied heavily on public and private statements that reiterated the strength of the alliance and the victory that would result from its continuation. The reply that Reynaud received from Washington fell far short of his expectations. It promised material support but not a declaration of war.64 Nevertheless, Churchill attempted to bolster Reynaud by arguing that the content of Roosevelt’s message was sufficient to continue the struggle. Churchill quoted directly from Reynaud’s own rhetoric, ‘[The] cabinet is united in considering this magnificent document as decisive in favour of continued resistance of France in accordance with your own declaration of June 10 about fighting before Paris, behind Paris, in a province or if necessary in Africa or across the Atlantic’.65 Behind closed doors, however, the War Cabinet resolved to press Roosevelt for more concrete aid. A second note stressed the ‘moral and psychological effect’ of American entrance into the war.66 Intelligence reports concluded that the British public, far from being encouraged by Roosevelt’s promises, was inclined to attribute Reynaud’s appeal to the imminence of a French collapse. Churchill also faced criticism. Vague promises such as ‘we will never surrender’ and ‘we will fight in the streets, on the hills …’ may now hold an almost prophetic status. However, at the time, they were criticised for failing to address deficiencies in men and equipment and to rectify growing shortages.67 Less than two weeks after the evacuations were concluded, pressure was mounting. British policy-makers were facing renewed criticism from a public that

63 64 65 66 67

R. Campbell to Foreign Office, 15 June 1940, FO 371/24310, TNA. Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 25 June 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA. Churchill to Reynaud, 14 June 1940, 10GMII/331, MAE. War Cabinet 167 (40) Conclusions, 15 June 1940, CAB 65/7/62, TNA. ‘Public Opinion on Present Crisis’, 14 June 1940, INF 1/264, TNA.

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was anxious to see quantifiable progress in the war effort. Meanwhile, the French government confronted internal divisions as it tried desperately to contend with the chaos of military invasion and social upheaval. ‘Weather Fine, Paris Surrendered’ On 15 June, Reynaud asked British officials under what conditions they would be willing to release France from the 28 March agreement not to seek out a separate peace.68,69 At the same time, Reynaud assured Churchill and the War Cabinet that he was certain that German terms would be unacceptable, allowing him to resume the struggle with a renewed sense of purpose. In this way, Reynaud’s request was framed not as a precursor to exiting the conflict, but rather, as a way to shore up morale in the metropole for a long battle ahead. Reynaud himself was largely in favour of continuing the conflict, if not from within France, then from one of its colonies. Reynaud’s successors also reiterated these promises, even if they had little intention of putting them into action. In the flurry of telegrams that followed, the British initially agreed to allow French officials to enquire about German terms on the condition that the French fleet would proceed immediately to Britain. This addendum annoyed Reynaud.70 Shortly after, Campbell received instructions to withdraw British consent. Instead, he was to propose a Franco-British union, which would carry on the war. Despite de Gaulle’s enthusiasm and Reynaud’s initial positivity upon hearing this new offer, the French cabinet declined to accept. Reynaud resigned on 16 June. His replacement, Marshal Philippe Pétain, the hero of Verdun, requested armistice terms through Spain in the early morning hours of 17 June. The uncertainty that pervaded the days immediately before and after the French request for German armistice terms cannot be overemphasised. Policy-makers on both sides of the Channel had to operate and make decisions without access to full information and in an environment that was constantly shifting. Paul Morand heard Pétain’s radio address announcing the request for armistice terms only an hour before he was due to attend a lunch in honour of the Franco-British alliance and future Franco-British economic cooperation.71 Churchill’s representative in France, Edward Spears, also experienced first hand this sense

68 69 70 71

Mass Observation Diary 5094, 14 June 1940, MOA. W. M. (40) 168th Conclusions, Minute 1, Confidential Annex, 16 June 1940, CAB 65/13/45, TNA. Sir Edward Spears, Assignment to Catastrophe (London: Heinemann, 1954), 582. Morand, Journal de Guerre, 239–240.

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of confusion and indecision. In a bizarre meeting with Pétain following his appointment to Reynaud’s government, the Marshal refused to discuss the present conflict and instead read aloud a long speech about Joan of Arc.72 Spears, who Churchill later appointed as Chief Liaison Officer to de Gaulle, recalled in his memoirs his personal disgust for those French ministers who were in favour of withdrawing France from the war. Regarding former Premier Pierre Laval Spears wrote, he was ‘a revolting sight and he made me feel sick’.73 Spears may have exaggerated his physical response to Laval’s presence at the time, but his reactions were consistent with wider frustrations in the British government aimed at ‘defeatist’ officials like Weygand, Laval and Pétain. Although Spears supported the offer of Franco British Union, it was received with a great deal of scepticism on both sides. It is wrong to attribute too much meaning to an offer that was highly symbolic and made at a point when many rightly believed that French collapse was imminent. War Cabinet discussions surrounding the offer described the importance of making a statement of unity ‘in a dramatic form’ that would convince France to abandon armistice discussions.74 Even Churchill admitted that, although he was initially opposed to the suggestion of union, he believed that ‘some dramatic announcement was necessary to keep the French going’.75 Pétain described the agreement as a marriage to a corpse, an image that was not inconsistent with the broad scepticism on both sides.76 Undersecretary of Foreign Affairs Paul Baudouin argued that such an agreement would provide no immediate practical relief to France.77 And Cadogan reflected following a 10 a.m. War Cabinet meeting on 15 June, ‘No one seems to be very keen on the idea of AngloFrench union’.78 Yet, the symbolic nature of this gesture was important. It illustrated the value that British policy-makers attached to portraying the conflict as a collaborative or allied effort. The conclusion of the Franco-German armistice and the division of France would complicate but not eliminate the idea of Franco-British alliance. As a grand gesture, the offer of Franco-British union failed in its mission to prolong the French war effort. The request for German armistice terms shifted the conflict into a new phase in which each side had 72 73 74 75 76 77 78

Jackson, The Dark Years, 125. Spears, Assignment, 558–559. W. M. (40) 167th Conclusions, Minute 6 Confidential Annex, 15 June 1940, CAB 65/13/44, TNA. War Cabinet 169 (40) Conclusions, 16 June 1940, CAB 65/7/64, TNA. Tombs, That Sweet Enemy, 562. Paul Baudouin, The Private Diaries of Paul Baudouin, trans. Sir Charles Petrie, BT (London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1948), 116. Cadogan, Diaries, 299.

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to renegotiate and clarify its position inside or outside of the conflict. French and British officials issued a series of statements that justified their policies and attempted to consolidate public support around them. With ongoing fighting and limited resources, coverage in the French press was understandably sparse. Following the armistice request, Le Temps published only two editions, one covering 19–21 June and the second 25 June. Imperial publications maintained a regular schedule. In the years to come, these press shortages would give new importance to Pétain’s broadcasts. At the time of his early broadcasts, French roads remained clogged with refugees, making it difficult to know how many were able to listen to radio news.79 Both Pétain and Churchill made radio broadcasts on 17 June following the official request for terms, which had been made early that morning. Pétain, in a well-known address at noon that day, told the nation ‘with a broken heart … fighting must cease’.80 The text of this address and another declaration made by the now Minister for Foreign Affairs Paul Baudouin were both printed in the Algiers press the following day. Both Pétain and Baudouin’s addresses praised the heroic and noble efforts of the French forces against an enemy that was technologically and numerically superior.81 Baudouin’s address also attempted to justify an armistice based on a narrow and very limited definition of nationhood and sovereignty. He concluded that the existence of the French nation meant maintaining ‘the purity of the French soul’ and the ‘spiritual heritage’ of the homeland.82 These depictions of the French nation – what it stood for and its position in the conflict – reflected a divergence in French and British war aims and perceptions of where French sovereignty resided. The narratives that developed out of this divergence would become central to British, Vichy and Free French rhetoric throughout the war. For British policy-makers, national sovereignty meant having the ability to control one’s own borders and the land within those borders. British criticisms of Pétain’s metropolitan government were based on the claim that it had no real power over internal affairs. By the same token, British support for what would become Charles de Gaulle’s Free French movement argued that a legitimate representative of the French state had to be acting to regain control of French territory from the Axis forces. These competing definitions of 79

80 81 82

Pétain’s addresses between 1940 and 1942 can be found in this volume: Philippe Pétain, Les Paroles et Les Écrits du Maréchal Pétain, 16 Juin 1940-1 Janvier 1942 (Editions de la Légion, 1942). War Cabinet 170 (40) Conclusions, 17 June 1940, CAB 65/7/65, TNA. ‘Le Maréchal Pétain président du Conseil parle à la France’, L’Echo d’Alger, 18 June 1940, 1. ‘Poignante déclaration de M. Baudouin’, L’Echo d’Alger, 18 June 1940, 1. Ibid.

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sovereignty led to a situation in which the metropolitan French government and Free French movement fought over who represented the legitimate French nation. Taking ownership of French heritage and culture as well as French colonial territory would play an important role within these arguments and the rhetoric and imagery they produced. Pétain and Baudouin’s broadcasts shared press space with Churchill’s radio address. The Algiers press observed that British officials appeared united in their decision to fight until victory was achieved. This decision was made only after carefully considering the availability of material resources. It assumed an eventual American declaration of war. But Churchill blithely claimed that fighting on was assumed, not discussed. ‘… we were much too busy to waste time upon such unreal, academic issues’.83 Churchill’s rhetoric, both in the midst of and in the aftermath of the conflict, was strikingly similar. His stated certainty that ‘in the end all will be well’, formed the basis of British rhetoric, which centred upon the certainty of victory in an honourable struggle.84 Although some MO diarists were sceptical of Churchill’s assuring speech, many writers observed that the public found his oratory to be ‘like a tonic’ or greatly soothing.85 A female writer from North London concluded pithily ‘the better educated stand these things less well than the simple’.86 Press reports suggested that the request for armistice terms was tragic, but not a shock. It had been expected and was met with full preparedness.87 In the period of uncertainty before the armistice terms were signed, official and press sources in Britain argued that the armistice request could be a ruse. The dishonourable nature of the terms would bolster French morale and allow France to continue the struggle. Trying to prepare for the possibilities that France could exit or remain in the conflict resulted in a series of contradictory and often oscillating policies. British officials were reluctant to endorse General de Gaulle in his plans to form a French movement in opposition to Pétain’s government. De Gaulle was only allowed to deliver his now famous 18 June declaration calling for French resisters to join him in London to continue the fight after Spears lobbied directly to Churchill and individual Cabinet members on his behalf.88 Britain simultaneously sent no fewer than three missions 83 84 85 86 87 88

Churchill, Finest Hour, 157. ‘Faith Still Firm, Mr. Churchill’s Address’, The Times, 18 June 1940, 6. Mass Observation Diary 5295, 18 June 1940, MOA. Mass Observation Diary 5388, 25 June 1940, MOA. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Last Hours in France, Britain Prepared for the News’, The Times, 18 June 1940, 6. Jean-Louis Crémieux-Brilhac, La France Libre: De l’Appel du 18 Juin à la Libération (Paris: Gallimard, 1996), 49.

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to Bordeaux to assess the likelihood of a continued relationship with the metropolitan government.89 Hesitations over whether to recognise de Gaulle as the leader of an opposition movement were also influenced by the attitudes of individual French and British officials who encountered him. Cadogan did not like de Gaulle. Robert Vansittart, the former head of the Foreign Office and now Chief Diplomatic Advisor to the government, oscillated between uncertainty and grudging support. The Foreign Office found de Gaulle’s plans and approach annoying: ‘il est trop pressé et il en fait trop’.90 Morand, who would choose to remain loyal to the metropolitan government, summarised attitudes towards de Gaulle amongst French diplomatic personnel: ‘les uns disant: c’est un général factieux et sans mandate, les autres répondant: voilà un homme qui a le sens de l’honneur’.91 Jean Monnet, who had worked with de Gaulle on the Franco-British union proposal, would become one of de Gaulle’s most notable French opponents. French Ambassador Charles Corbin and Alexis Leger, the former head of the French Foreign Office, would appeal to the British government that de Gaulle was an unknown entity and therefore not a credible leader for a French movement abroad.92 De Gaulle’s decision to flee to London flew in the face of French republican traditions, which made exile synonymous with betrayal. His refusal to remain loyal to Pétain, a venerated hero of France, also did nothing to increase his popularity.93 Predictably, official declarations from the French metropole invalidated de Gaulle’s address and his position in London as having no association with the French government.94 And British officials remained unwilling to scuttle relations with the metropolitan government just yet. After de Gaulle’s 18 June speech, the British government adopted a ‘wait and see’ approach. At the first meeting of the Vansittart Committee on 21 June, which was formed with the goal of coordinating continued French resistance, the committee members95 agreed that de Gaulle should not be permitted to make any further broadcasts.96 De Gaulle, 89 90 91 92

93 94 95 96

Julian Jackson, A Certain Idea of France: The Life of Charles de Gaulle (London: Penguin, 2018), 126–127. Crémieux-Brilhac, La France Libre, 51. Morand, Journal de Guerre, 248. Jackson, A Certain Idea of France, 133, 135. Charlotte Faucher has also highlighted the existence of anti-Gaullist sentiment in London. See Charlotte Faucher, ‘From Gaullist to Anti-Gaullism: Denis Saurat and the French Cultural Institute in Wartime London’, Journal of Contemporary History 54, no. 1 (2019): 60–81. Crémieux-Brilhac, La France Libre, 47. ‘Après l’allocution radiodiffusée du général de Gaulle’, Le Temps, 19–21 June 1940, 3. Members included: Vansittart, Spears, Strang, Morton and Speight. ‘Vansittart Committee’, 21 June 1940, GB165-0269 Box 1 File 3, Middle East Centre Archive [henceforth MECA].

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not yet willing to be accused of unqualified dissidence, was also covering his own tracks. He wrote a series of letters to General Weygand and the French Military Attaché in London portraying himself as a loyal officer ready to return to France when ordered.97 After the news reached London that Pétain had signed armistice terms on 22 June, de Gaulle would be allowed to broadcast for the second time that evening.98 De Gaulle’s early addresses had very few listeners. Churchill’s ‘Finest Hour’ address, also delivered on 18 June, overshadowed de Gaulle’s initial message. This does not mean that de Gaulle’s words were insignificant. On the contrary, they were important because they moved decisively away from Pétain’s government. They proposed an alternate French policy and situated French sovereignty and French interests with de Gaulle rather than the metropolitan government. Julian Jackson points out that what matters is that the speech was made: ‘All de Gaulle’s future action – what he would later call his “legitimacy” – derived from that moment’.99 Uncertainty and confusion also impacted how policy was being made and communicated within the French metropole. Without access to daily newspapers, radio statements took on new importance. Pétain and Baudouin’s justifications for requesting terms at times contradicted each other causing further confusion about France’s future in the conflict. Pétain made his initial radio broadcast without the consent of his ministers. In it, he stated, ‘The fighting must cease’. After the broadcast, the printed text was changed to read, ‘We must try to cease the fighting’.100 The original text was altered largely to avoid confusion amongst the armed forces, who were still fighting. However, it also reflected the uncertainty amongst French ministers regarding whether armistice terms would be accepted and whether a French government would proceed to the empire to continue the struggle. Pétain made a second address on 20 June in which he announced that plenipotentiaries had been selected to hear the German terms. This communication also made no mention of the possibility of resuming the struggle. It stated that the dire military situation, a product of the numerical inferiority of French material and men, made the request for armistice terms inevitable. Going further, it called for a renewed spirit of sacrifice in order to rebuild France.101 Reconstruction could not take place without first accepting defeat and signing an armistice. 97 98 99 100 101

Jackson, A Certain Idea of France, 131. War Cabinet 171 (40) Conclusions, 17 June 1940, CAB 65/7/66, TNA. Jackson, A Certain Idea of France, 130. Griffiths, Marshal Pétain, 240. Pétain, Paroles, 13–14.

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Pétain’s rhetoric was sometimes at odds with information that was being given to the British and even in some cases to the French public. After meeting with Pétain and Baudouin, First Lord Alexander reported to Churchill that he had received verbal assurances that the French would not accept dishonourable terms. He was also given the impression that the struggle was likely to be resumed. Baudouin’s 17 June broadcast argued in a similar vein. It asserted that the current situation faced by the armed forces made it necessary to inquire as to the intentions of Germany before considering final defensive measures.102 ‘More than at any time in the national history, this mingling of our sufferings and of our determinations assures the maintenance of the nobility and of the purity of the civilisation of France’.103 However, Alexander expressed disdain for Pétain and distrust over his and his cabinet’s intentions. He described the new Premier as ‘obviously very old and finding it difficult to connect’.104 At the same time, telegrams were arriving in Bordeaux from French North Africa and the Levant promising continued assistance and urging officials to renew the struggle from abroad. On 17 and 18 June, General Charles Noguès, the commander-in-chief of French North Africa, informed Weygand and Pétain that French and indigenous populations in North Africa were united in their opposition to an armistice. Noguès also received promises of military, financial and economic aid from British Consul Generals in Alger, Tunis and Rabat and General Clive Gerard Liddell, the governor of Gibraltar.105 The British Cabinet were hopeful that French imperial officials in North Africa and the Middle East would reject the armistice terms.106 As long as possibilities like this remained on the table, British decision-makers would keep de Gaulle at arm’s length. But Pétain and his new cabinet refused to commit to an evacuation plan, despite assurances from Noguès that French North Africa was well placed to carry on the battle.107 Any sense of urgency to set up a French government in the empire faded further after junior minister Raphaël Alibert falsely declared that the Germans had not yet crossed the Loire. Government ministers were, on the basis of this information, instructed to remain in Bordeaux.108 Pétain’s addresses, which would focus on explaining the defeat and criticising the moral decay 102 103 104 105 106 107 108

Speech Broadcast by Baudouin, 18 June 1940, FO 371/24348, TNA. Baudouin, Diaries, 120. ‘Note prepared of interviews at Bordeaux’, 19 June 1940, PREM 3/174/4, TNA. André Truchet, ‘L’Armistice de Juin 1940 et l’Afrique du Nord’, Revue d’histoire de la Deuxième Guerre Mondiale 1, no. 3 (June 1951): 35–37. Crémieux-Brilhac, La France Libre, 51. Truchet, ‘L’Armistice de Juin 1940’, 39. Jackson, The Dark Years, 127.

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that had been rampant in the interwar years, cast a long shadow on the idea of further resistance, even if the French Cabinet remained divided over the issue. Nevertheless, British policy was conceptualised under the assumption that continued resistance was still possible. We know that uncertainty over how France would respond to the armistice terms impacted British policy and led to the suppression of further broadcasts by de Gaulle. The British press also speculated over the possibility that Pétain’s ministry would reject the armistice terms and continue to fight. These conjectures divided French sentiment into two camps: defeatists and resistors. These categories would be replicated in British and Free French rhetoric after the Franco-German armistice was concluded. For the time being, however, the British press focussed upon Britain’s resolve to continue the struggle and refrained from criticising the French. The announcement that France was enquiring about armistice terms influenced British predictions about how the conflict would develop in the future. But these predictions occupied a spectrum of possible outcomes, of which a French withdrawal from the fighting was only one. Recall that when Pétain’s request for armistice terms became public, there was little surprise expressed either in official rhetoric or public sentiment. The armistice request was not viewed as decisive proof that France would exit the struggle. Intelligence reports described reactions amongst the British public as displaying ‘confusion and shock, but hardly surprise’.109 First Sea Lord Dudley Pound assumed that the armistice terms would be invalidated by a request to surrender the French fleet and that this would allow the French to terminate the conference and resume fighting.110 By 20 June, the British press was asserting that opposition to surrender was growing amongst the French population. This claim was increasingly at odds with Pétain’s own explanations of the reasons for defeat. An article in The Guardian accused the Pétain government of suppressing the publication of favourable news, such as increases in war material being supplied by the United States.111 As late as 21 June Foreign Minister Lord Halifax met with French Ambassador Charles Corbin, where he was told that public opinion in France was gaining strength to continue the fight.112 In sharp contrast to Corbin’s optimism, Pétain’s 20 June broadcast explained the reason for the defeat as ‘too few children, too few arms, too

109 110 111 112

‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 17 June 1940, INF 1/264, TNA. Pound to Churchill, 18 June 1940, FO 371/24311, TNA. ‘Our London Correspondence: France’, The Guardian, 20 June 1940, 4. R. Campbell to Foreign Office, 21 June 1940, FO 371/24311, TNA. War Cabinet 174 (40) Conclusions, 21 June 1940, CAB 65/7/69, TNA.

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few allies’.113 His words provided little scope to continue the struggle. He argued that material shortages had led to France’s military collapse while simultaneously tracing the root of these shortcomings to widespread interwar decadence. Victory in 1918, Pétain argued, created a nation in which ‘the spirit of pleasure has prevailed over the spirit of sacrifice’.114 The British press was quick to criticise Pétain’s perceived defeatism. The Times published a critique of his address, arguing that Pétain’s speech was ‘calculated to take the heart out of the French people’ and to justify the request for an armistice.115 British publications persisted in claiming that France might still reject the armistice terms. However, it was possible to detect a growing tendency to understand the struggle as an exclusively British one. More and more articles turned their attention to the defence of fortress Britain rather than the possibility of continued French aid. Corbin reported on 21 June that the British press contained little news about France and focussed instead on the British effort and the evolution of American opinion.116 Although there was little outright criticism of the French between 17 and 21 June, and indeed a great deal of pity for their current plight, there was a noticeable shift in how the war was conceptualised.117 It was increasingly interpreted as a British war. A South London shopkeeper wrote that the public displayed a ‘quiet steady confidence: we fight alone’.118 Resolve attached to these sentiments indicated a growing disinterest for the French dilemma. Intelligence reports went as far as warning, ‘the latency of anti-French feeling must never be forgotten. A few days ago sympathy swamped it but it found indirect expression in a common phrase “At last we have no Allies, now we fight alone”’.119 These images of Britain, isolated and alone, however, existed alongside others that sought to give continuity to the Franco-British alliance. This would be achieved by casting Britain as France’s saviour from Nazi domination and de Gaulle’s Free French movement as the gatekeeper of the true spirit and sovereignty of France and Franco-British cooperation. On 21 June, twenty-seven French parliamentarians boarded the ship Massilia. They were bound for French North Africa, where they hoped to continue the struggle from abroad. However, when they arrived in 113 114 115 116 117 118 119

‘Too Few Children, Too Few Arms, Too Few Allies’, The Guardian, 21 June 1940, 7. Ibid. ‘French Envoys Hear Hitler’s Terms’, The Times, 21 June 1940, 6. Corbin to Bordeaux, 21 June 1940, 9GMII/24, MAE. ‘Relation sommaire de la situation à Londres du 17 Juin au 20 Juillet’, 10GMII/291, MAE. Mass Observation Diary 5039.3, 17 June 1940, MOA. ‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 19 June 1940, INF 1/264, TNA.

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Casablanca on 24 June, they discovered that their voyage had been in vain. Two days earlier, on the evening of 22 June, General Charles Huntziger had signed a Franco-German armistice in the forest of Compiègne, in the same rail carriage in which General Foch had presented his own terms to the Germans in 1918. The Franco-German armistice went into effect on 25 June at 12:35 a.m., following the negotiation of a separate Franco-Italian agreement. When British representatives Lord Gort and Duff Cooper arrived in Rabat on the 27 June to meet with the opponents of the armistice imprisoned on the Massilia, Noguès turned them away. Noguès, despite his earlier claims that all of North Africa wanted to continue the war, was worried about the local response should he allow those on the Massilia to disembark.120 A lack of resources (coal and oil) and industrial infrastructure meant that North Africa would have struggled to effectively support a resistance army.121 In any case, the feasibility of carrying on the conflict from North Africa was never tested. The question of continued resistance from the French Empire ended as colonial administrators in the Levant, French West Africa and North Africa rallied to Pétain’s government. It is possible that British interference influenced these decisions to remain loyal to the metropolitan government.122 In the period following the signature of the armistice and leading up to the British bombardments of the French fleet in early July, British rhetoric recast the struggle as one in which the French population was firmly opposed to the Pétain government’s policies. This distinction, alongside British representations of themselves as the guardians of civilisation, would be key themes in British rhetoric throughout the struggle. Similarly, de Gaulle would defend his decision to go to London as essential for defending French honour. His aim, from 1940 onwards, was to build an organisation that would be accepted as the legitimate authority of France and French interests. British and Free French operations carried out against French colonial territories were justified using the argument that metropolitan France and its government was no longer an independent and sovereign nation. Pétain’s government would challenge these claims, basing its legitimacy and right to rule on the maintenance of these same colonial territories. 120

121

122

Chantal Metzger, Le Maghreb dans la Guerre 1939–1945 (Malakoff: Armand Colin, 2018), 87. For more on the responses of nationalist leaders and the broader population to the armistice in French North Africa, see Ibid, 83–93. Christine Levisse-Touzé, ‘L’Afrique du Nord pendant la Seconde Guerre Mondiale’, Relations Internationales no. 77 (Spring 1994): 10. On 22 June, Noguès reported that he had sufficient munitions to carry out operations for two months. He urged Weygand to send as many troops and materials as possible. Truchet, ‘L’Armistice’, 39. Jackson, The Dark Years, 128.

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No Longer a French Government After the Franco-German armistice went into effect, British political intelligence summaries expressed frustration over the events of late June. Pétain was depicted as ‘a hopelessly broken weed’, and his new government was accused of perverting the offer of Franco-British union into ‘a purely selfish intention to absorb France and her empire into that of Britain’.123 In the week that followed the conclusion of armistice terms, British and French policy-makers were deciding how to justify and explain what had happened over the last two months. They were also indicating a path forward for their respective nations. Official rhetoric was a vital tool in this process. It was used to garner public support for two very different visions of the future. British and French rhetoric also competed for American support. For Britain, this meant demonstrating its resolve in the continuing war effort. For France, this meant justifying the Franco-German armistice as a necessary precursor to French renewal. On 23 June, American radio reports broadcast across Britain confirmed that France had accepted Germany’s armistice terms. Churchill’s own address, recorded the night of 22/23 June, expressed ‘grief and amazement’ at this decision. These words triggered French objections because they suggested that the armistice had been concluded against popular support to continue the war. Baudouin voiced his particular displeasure over Churchill’s promises to remain true to the cause of the French people, despite the actions of their government.124 Pétain also began to criticise British statements that divided French opinion from the metropolitan government. After the signing of the Franco-German armistice, British rhetoric developed around two claims. First, official statements and media responses argued that Britain, now continuing the struggle alone, had retained the moral high ground. The narratives of inevitable victory that had played such a pivotal role in the Franco-British alliance were reconstructed to fit the idea of a gallant British struggle that would end with France’s rescue. Second, the Franco-German armistice was described as dishonourable and unrepresentative of French public opinion.125 On the other hand, Pétain relied upon messages of reconstruction, renewal and rebirth to shore up the legitimacy of the new government. This rhetoric sought to explain the inevitability of defeat, rather than victory. And it argued that French sovereignty remained intact, safeguarded by France’s continuing control of its fleet and empire. 123 124 125

Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 2 July 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA. Baudouin, Diaries, 138. Claims that the German terms were contrary to French honour focussed on the French fleet, which British decision-makers believed had been left open to German infiltration and seizure.

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The armistice terms met none of Pétain’s criteria for refusal. Rather, they had been carefully crafted by the Germans to avoid giving France cause to resume the conflict. British portrayals of the agreement as dishonourable were important, however, particularly from a symbolic point of view. They challenged the moral basis upon which Pétain’s government had concluded the armistice. Questioning the legitimacy of the armistice terms was also a way to undermine Pétain’s government more broadly. General de Gaulle was rapidly becoming central to this approach, fashioned as the authentic voice of France. De Gaulle’s 18 June address had claimed that French sovereignty was no longer synonymous with the metropole. Speaking from London, he said ‘I … am conscious of speaking in the home of France’.126 French Jurist René Cassin, who joined de Gaulle in London, recalled this exchange with the General at their first meeting on 29 June. To Cassin’s remark that French fighters must be thought of as the French army and not a foreign legion in the British army, de Galle responded, ‘We are France’.127 De Gaulle’s radio addresses on 22 and 23 June called on Frenchmen to join him in disowning the Franco-German armistice. They precipitated a concerned telegram from French Charge d’Affaires Roger Cambon. Writing to Pétain’s government, by now housed in Bordeaux, Cambon expressed his concern that France and Britain were at risk of becoming mired in a war of words.128 Indeed, an important goal of French rhetoric was to challenge British criticisms and assert the continued sovereignty of the French nation and empire against British and Gaullist arguments to the contrary. French analyses of the British political and press response to the signing of the armistice were quick to note that British rhetoric was moving in a new direction. Churchill’s statement had directly challenged the legitimacy of the agreement and the current government. It argued that acceptance of the terms could not have been made by a government that ‘possessed freedom, independence and constitutional authority’.129 The War Cabinet likewise condemned the armistice terms as dishonourable, arguing that the agreement was made under duress and left France incapable of acting as a free and sovereign nation.130 Statements broadcast in French and English via the BBC on 23 June argued that Pétain’s government had not only broken the 28 March agreement not to conclude a separate armistice, it had also signed away its remaining agency to 126 127 128 129 130

Charles de Gaulle, Discours et Messages Pendant le Guerre Juin 1940-Janvier 1946 (Paris: Plon, 1970), 18 June 1940. Jay Winter and Antoine Prost, René Cassin and Human Rights: From the Great War to the Universal Declaration (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 111. Cambon to Bordeaux, 29 June 1940, 9GMII/295, MAE. ‘France Is Not Dead’, The Times, 24 June 1940, 6. War Cabinet 176 (40) Conclusions, 22 June 1940, CAB 65/7/71, TNA.

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Germany. The armistice thus deprived Pétain’s government of the ‘right to represent free French citizens’.131 The armistice terms were also described across the British press as wholly dishonourable. The Times depicted them as exacting ‘the complete capitulation of France’.132 Even though the United States had granted official recognition to the Vichy government, the article claimed that French ‘independence’ was a mockery ‘realized nowhere more acutely than in the United States’.133 Ongoing concern regarding the future of the French fleet and empire resurfaced with the publication of terms on 24 June. Under the agreement, the British press lamented, ‘France will be entirely powerless’.134 Cambon wrote to his government warning that the British press was citing protests against the armistice within the French Empire as a way to underline its unpopularity.135 Meanwhile, both print and radio broadcasts referred to the metropolitan government as ‘the Pétain government’, signalling that it did not represent the authentic France.136 These depictions of Pétain’s government appeared to echo British popular sentiment. Public opinion analyses conducted by the MOI concluded ‘at all levels of society the opinion is bitterly and vigorously expressed that the French people have been betrayed by “the politicians”’.137 Attempts to claim that (what would become) the Vichy government was illegal were tenuous at best. However, in 1940, they were central to efforts to build public support around the ongoing British war effort and a reconstituted Franco-British alliance under the leadership of Charles de Gaulle.138 The fact that the terms of the armistice were not published in France until 25 June gave British media outlets a new source of criticism. Following the news that an armistice had been signed with Italy, The Guardian stressed the dishonour of the agreement, commenting ‘the Bordeaux Government, for understandable reasons, has not made known the nature of the German terms to the French people’.139 The article made it clear that a minority of duplicitous and defeatist men stood in the way of a population anxious to continue the struggle. This idea was central 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139

France Libre, Dossier 2, 23 June 1940, AG/3(1)/257, AN. ‘Hitler’s Terms for an Armistice Accepted’, The Times, 24 June 1940, 6. ‘Stricken France’, The Times, 25 June 1940, 7. The Vichy government was also officially recognised by Canada, the Soviet Union and the Vatican. ‘The Terms’, The Guardian, 24 June 1940, 4. Cambon to Bordeaux, ‘Presse Anglaise’, 24 June 1940, 10GMII/331, MAE. ‘Relation sommaire de la situation à Londres’, 17 June-20 July 1940, 10GMII/291, MAE. ‘Presse anglaise du 23 Juin 1940’, 23 June 1940, 10GMII/331, MAE. ‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 24 June 1940, INF 1/264, TNA. Jackson, The Dark Years, 133–136. ‘The Armistice’, The Guardian, 25 June 1940, 4; also Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘French People in the Dark’, The Times, 25 June 1940, 6.

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to the message of a David Low cartoon published on 26 June in The Guardian and The Evening Standard. In it, Hitler lounged on an imposing throne. A ‘role of honour’ was hanging to his left naming Vidkun Quisling of Norway, King Leopold of Belgium and the ‘Men of Bordeaux’. These men were represented by three figures, which were bowing so low in subservience to Hitler that their faces were obscured. However, over them, striking a proud Napoleonic pose was a French soldier with the word ‘France’ emblazoned on his overcoat.140 More blatant statements regarding the armistice as ‘a betrayal of the French people’ and ‘the handful of men’ who surrendered French honour fanned the flame of Franco-British tensions.141 The wealth of research surrounding the chaos that accompanied the refugee crisis throughout France and the immediate relief that met the announcement of a cessation in hostilities belies such sentiments.142 What is clear is that British rhetoric in the aftermath of the armistice request created a framework in which the decisions of the French government and the ‘the men of Vichy’ were decisively separated from French public sentiment. British and Gaullist rhetoric also discredited the Franco-German and to a lesser extent the Franco-Italian armistice by arguing that neither Germany nor Italy could be relied upon to keep its word. The Italians, who had been allocated a small occupation zone around Menton and Savoie, a few thousand prisoners of war and no occupation indemnities, were treated more as a minor annoyance, rather than an organic threat.143 De Gaulle, in his 26 June BBC French address, asked how France was expected ‘to rise again from beneath the German jack-boot and the Italian dancing-slipper’.144 The Foreign Office suggested portraying the Italians as duplicitous and sneaky in press and public statements. Publicity could argue that although the terms appeared to be lenient, Italian intentions were to first demilitarise any zones of interest and then take control of them completely during peace negotiations.145 140 141

142

143

144 145

David Low, ‘Low on the Surrender of France’, The Manchester Guardian, 26 June 1940, 6. Former Paris Correspondent, ‘The Riddle of the French Capitulation: Pétain and the Men Behind Him’, The Guardian, 25 June 1940, 4. ‘Britain and France’, The Guardian, 26 June 1940, 4. Hannah Diamond, Fleeing Hitler, France 1940 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008). Jackson, The Dark Years. Jackson, The Fall of France. Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order 1940–1944 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972). Karine Varley, ‘Vichy and the Complexities of Collaborating with Fascist Italy: French Policy and Perceptions between June 1940 and March 1942’, Modern & Contemporary France 21, no. 3 (2013): 319. ‘De Gaulle to Pétain: Who Is Responsible?’ The Guardian, 27 June 1940, 7. ‘Italian Armistice Terms to France, Suggested Line for Publicity in Press and Wireless’, 26 June 1940, FO 371/24348, TNA.

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In the French metropole, Pétain’s government responded directly to British interpretations of the Franco-German armistice. Broadcasting from Bordeaux on 23 June, Pétain protested in the name of the French government against Churchill’s accusations that there was a difference of opinion between the views of the nation and the government that was leading it.146 He alluded to the renewal of French greatness, which would be achieved through the courage and perseverance of its people. Referencing again material shortages that had hindered the French war effort, Pétain constructed a broader rationale for the armistice. France had simply been outnumbered on every front, and the only logical choice was to relent and begin to rebuild the nation from those new foundations. It was possible, Pétain argued, to create a new and better France even from the ruins of a military defeat. The Bordeaux government also issued a ‘painful’ note of complaint, which Corbin refused to deliver. Cambon delivered the note in his place. In it, the newly formed government protested against ‘the terms used by the Prime Minister’ as he sought to separate French public opinion from the actions of Pétain’s government.147 French official and media responses claimed that Churchill was acting in bad faith by criticising the current government for a decision that he himself had agreed was necessary before 17 June. L’Echo d’Alger published an article entitled ‘L’Attitude Anglaise’ laying out the dates that Britain had been told that it was likely that France would have to put down its arms. The first warning was listed as 20 May.148 The perceived importance of American opinion and the assumption that it would eventually become a full participant in the struggle also shaped rhetorical strategies on both sides of the Channel. French publications in the United States accused Britain of failing to mobilise men and resources during the conflict: ‘It was obvious that Britain had believed more in the blockade than in the provision of material assistance to her Ally’.149 A Foreign Office note suggested countering this kind of negative French propaganda by arguing that British victory was a certainty. But it warned against engaging in petty criticisms of French military failures. Instead, why not land ‘a few tough British marines in France’ to kill a few Germans? Such a sensational story would be worth ‘hours of drawing-room gossip and backstairs chat’.150 Plans like this 146

147 148 149 150

French Broadcast from Bordeaux, 23 June 1940, PREM 3/174/4, TNA. Pétain, Paroles, 13. ‘Le Maréchal Pétain Répond à M. Winston Churchill’, Le Temps, 25 June 1940, 1. Francisque Laurent, ‘Stupeur Attristée’, L’Echo d’Alger, 25 June 1940, 1. War Cabinet 179 (40) Conclusions, 24 June 1940, CAB 65/7/74, TNA. ‘L’Attitude Anglaise’, L’Echo d’Alger, 26 June 1940, 1. War Cabinet 181 (40) Conclusions, 25 June 1940, CAB 65/7/76, TNA. Foreign Office note on countering French propaganda in the United States, 28 June 1940, FO 371/24311, TNA.

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were part of a conscious effort to shape opinion through rhetoric as well as symbolic, but strategically ineffective, action. What was important was to create the perception that Britain was still capable of taking decisive steps against the enemy. During this period, however, British policy-makers did not intend for relations with the Bordeaux government to be completely severed even if they remained outwardly strained. Rhetorical condemnations, in other words, did not rule out backdoor diplomacy. One scholar has argued that after the Franco-German armistice was signed, ‘the British government lost all sensitivity to metropolitan French opinion’.151 However, this is inaccurate. While British officials would consistently criticise the Vichy government throughout the war, they were very careful to avoid implicating the broader French population and Pétain, who they knew still commanded a great deal of respect amongst a majority of citizens. Even French observations of British opinion at the time concluded that the British public still held the people of France in high regard and recognised the extent of their suffering.152 Fashioning de Gaulle as the representative of legitimate French interests was a way to align French opinion with the British war effort and sideline Pétain’s government. But even after it was known that the Bordeaux Government would accept German armistice terms, de Gaulle’s leadership was not a foregone conclusion. In de Gaulle’s third broadcast, delivered on the evening of 23 June, he stated his intention to set up a provisional French National Committee in cooperation with the British government. This body would express the true will of France. It was a direct challenge to the validity of the Bordeaux government. Corbin complained to Halifax that de Gaulle should not have been allowed to deliver his message. He also requested that a British declaration in French supporting de Gaulle’s statement be kept out of the press.153 Corbin, Monnet and Alexis Léger, the former secretary general of the French Foreign Office, argued that a Committee formed in London by a little-known French general would be no more independent than the Bordeaux government.154 These sentiments were not entirely out of line with British policy at the time. The War Cabinet remained reluctant to give its unconditional support to de Gaulle. British officials felt that a better known and more qualified candidate might still emerge.

151 152 153 154

Desmond Dinan, The Politics of Persuasion: British Policy and French African Neutrality, 1940–1942 (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1988), 24. Cambon to Bordeaux, 25 June 1940, 10GMII/292, MAE. British Statement in French, 23 June 1940, PREM 3/174/3, TNA. Crémieux-Brilhac, La France Libre, 59.

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From the Dunkirk Evacuations to the Franco-German Armistice

On 24 June, Halifax instructed the press not to publish the planned communiqué, which would have given official government recognition to the National Committee. At the same time, imperial leaders in the French Empire were also deciding what path to take. Although they were influenced by Maxime Weygand and others who remained loyal to Pétain, individual decision-making was still a major factor in explaining why most of the French Empire did not condemn the armistice. When, two days later, it had become clear that the French Empire would not unite to condemn the armistice. De Gaulle proposed, in place of a National Committee, a French committee, or legion. Left with few options, Churchill and the British government finally recognised de Gaulle as ‘leader of all the Free French wherever they might be’ on 28 June, but only after being pressured by the Vansittart Committee.155 Even after recognising de Gaulle, the British government still hoped to preserve relations with the Bordeaux government. The British government’s relationship with de Gaulle would be formalised through an exchange of letters, which culminated in a memorandum of agreement on 7 August. The agreement placed de Gaulle at the head of the Free French forces and provided British financial support for the movement.156 After receiving official recognition, de Gaulle did begin to consolidate his role as the chief representative of France’s ongoing war effort. However, his calls urging Frenchmen to join him in continuing the struggle were not very successful. A week after his 18 June address, only a few hundred volunteers had come forward.157 His second, 22 June broadcast, delivered after the decision to accept the armistice terms was made public, described France as having been reduced to a state of slavery. Still, few rallied to his call.158 The significance of de Gaulle’s movement, however, should not be measured solely by the number of its recruits. An important aim of British and Free French rhetoric was to preserve the idea of Franco-British cooperation and prepare for a future in which France would play a role as a victor nation. The harsh criticism that had accompanied King Leopold’s capitulation a month earlier was largely absent from British depictions of the French armistice. Instead, Churchill’s 25 June Commons address called for Britain to focus upon the task ahead, in order to rescue France ‘from the ruin and bondage 155 156 157 158

‘Vansittart Committee’, 28 June 1940, GB165-0269 Box 1 File 3, MECA. Jackson, A Certain Idea of France, 136–137. ‘Memorandum of Agreement’, June 1940, FO 371/24340, TNA. Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs of Charles de Gaulle, vol. 1, The Call to Honour, trans. Jonathan Griffin (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1955), 88. ‘Submission to Slavery: Plea to Frenchmen, General de Gaulle’s Broadcast’, The Guardian, 24 June 1940, 6.

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into which she has been cast by the might and fury of the enemy’.159 The construction of the Franco-British relationship as one that remained valid, so long as the Pétain government was excluded, was an important assumption of British and Gaullist rhetoric in the following years, and indeed, in the post-war years as well. It was premised on the notion that no matter who claimed to lead the French nation, the legitimate France remained tied to the aims and goals of Britain. Pétain’s address, also made on 25 June, betrayed just how differently each side conceptualised the defeat. While Churchill’s speech focussed upon the inevitability of victory, Pétain’s outlined rational statistics, which made defeat inevitable. In sharp contrast to Churchill’s moral tones, Pétain argued ‘that victory is dependent upon men, material and how they are used’.160 The French defeat led to a crisis of legitimation over who and what represented the ‘true’ French nation. The notion of a legitimate France was being constructed and contested from the moment of the defeat. These competing images can help to move the focus away from our knowledge of how the war would end. Interpretations of wartime sentiment too often make conclusions based upon the understanding that Allied victory was forthcoming. Peter Mangold wrote, ‘Britain’s final advantage over its ally was moral. Unlike France, the crisis of June 1940, pulled the British together, producing a climate of defiance’.161 The moral rhetoric that surrounded the British struggle should not be used to explain why Britain won. The myths and memories that grew stronger in the aftermath of the war ‘were as much a consequence as a cause of victory’.162 Churchill’s memoirs abound with arguments that ‘German thoroughness’ was no match for ‘British pluck’, examples of how retrospective and historically grounded assumptions can carry on masquerading as logical argument.163 In June 1940, the withdrawal of French forces shifted the military landscape in fundamental ways. British and French policy-makers responded to these changes, not least of all by redefining each nation’s role inside or outside of the struggle. And they fashioned their wartime narratives to fit these positions. Roger Cambon observed this process from the French embassy in London. He linked ongoing confidence in  Britain 159

160 161 162 163

Hansard HC Deb vol. 362 col. 302 (25 June 1940) http://hansard.millbanksystems .com/commons/1940/jun/25/war-situation#column_302. Notably at this point in his address, an MP interrupted to shout ‘and by the politicians’. Pétain, Paroles, 16. Peter Mangold, Britain and the Defeated French: From Occupation to Liberation, 1940– 1944 (London: I. B. Tauris, 2012), 7. Jackson, The Dark Years, 113. Churchill, Finest Hour, 322.

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From the Dunkirk Evacuations to the Franco-German Armistice

to ignorance regarding the battle to come and the prevalence of imagery celebrating ‘la citadelle britannique’.164 Churchill made references to Britain as an impenetrable island fortress in the immediate aftermath of the armistice request, yet he also tried to broaden the base of the conflict. His address on 17 June described the war as a ‘world cause’, whose next battle would be the defence of ‘our island home’.165 Likewise, Duff Cooper’s 19 June BBC broadcast drove home the advantages of this new phase of the conflict. ‘We are nearly all inside the fortress now – the fortress is well defended and well supplied and will hold out until the efforts of the enemy are exhausted’.166 Heroic statements that assured an ultimate victory were at the core of British rhetoric in the aftermath of the French defeat and throughout the war years. Ernest Bevin’s overseas broadcast on 23 June bestowed the upcoming battle with all of the trappings of historical greatness and triumph. At this ‘critical moment in world history’, the Commonwealth would stand between ‘tyranny and liberty’ and will ultimately triumph.167 The necessity of resistance was constructed upon the premise that being on the ‘right’ side was a precursor to and an assurance of victory. Planning for the defence of Britain, however, was only one part of a much more complex picture. The fall of France also brought empire to the forefront of the battle.168 Defending metropolitan Britain from what was thought to be imminent invasion was a top priority. But the war that Britain now faced was an imperial war. Egypt and the Suez Canal were under direct Italian threat, and British eastern territories, including Malaya and Singapore stared down the barrel of Japanese encroachment. There was also a strong tradition of securing Commonwealth support from wealthy, westernised and Anglophilic countries including Canada, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, giving Britain access to essential resources. The support provided by these nations as well as India (between May and November 1940, the Indian army doubled in size)169 in material and manpower were vital considerations that allowed Britain to continue pursuing the struggle against the Axis powers. For the Bordeaux government and de Gaulle’s Free French movement, the French

164 165

166 167 168 169

Cambon to Bordeaux, 30 June 1940, 10GMII/296, MAE. Robert Rhodes James, ed., Winston S. Churchill: His Complete Speeches, 1897–1963, vol. 6 (New York: Chelsea House Publishers, 1974), 6231. ‘Mr. Churchill’s Message’, The Times, 17 June 1940, 6. BBC News Broadcast on French Defeat, 19 June 1940, DUFC 8/2/17, CCAC. Overseas Transmission IV, 23 June, 1940, BEVN II 1/1, CCAC. John Darwin, The Empire Project: The Rise and Fall of the British World System, 1830– 1970 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 499. Ibid., 505.

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Empire could confer legitimacy and sovereignty. In the middle of 1941, a report from Vichy’s Services de la Propagande would summarise the main themes of Vichy France’s post-armistice rhetoric. Amongst them was the assertion that the empire guaranteed that France retained its position as a great power and the warning that ‘l’histoire prouve que l’Angleterre est l’ennemi héréditaire de cet empire …’170 As France and Britain began to adjust to the new status quo, the French fleet and empire began to take a central role in British, Vichy and Free French policy. Conclusion Between the Dunkirk evacuations in late May and the conclusion of the Franco-German armistice a month later, the Franco-British alliance transformed in fundamental ways. Each side mobilised to justify its new position, either inside or outside of the conflict. This chapter established a framework for understanding how the Franco-British alliance would evolve over the next five years. The French decision to request an armistice on 17 June set in motion first a tentative and then an increasingly rapid shift in rhetoric on both sides of the Channel. The messages that French and British policy-makers deployed through public statements, newspapers and radio broadcasts told a story about why each nation’s path was the most correct. These arguments, which would become central to Vichy, British and Free French rhetoric throughout the course of the war, were being formulated, tested and refined in 1940. Even before Pétain’s government requested armistice terms, FrancoBritish cooperation was complex and fraught with uncertainty. At the outbreak of war, it appeared as though both sides were mobilising resources for close cooperation. However, Germany’s swift progress unleashed chaos in the Low Countries and throughout France. Between 15 and 20 June, an estimated 6–8 million refugees flooded French roads and panicked officials deserted their posts.171 By late May, the possibility of a French collapse was being weighed up in London behind the closed doors of the War Cabinet. And it was being considered by the French Cabinet as it fled from Paris on 10 June to the Château de Cangé in the Loire and finally, on 14 June, to Bordeaux. It was also the subject of public debate and rumour in Britain and France. Even so, frays in the relationship were deliberately kept out of the press in order to avoid damaging the public’s perception of the partnership, which would cast doubt on promises of an Allied victory. Nevertheless, although British 170 171

‘Guide: Les Thèmes de Propagande’, 1941, F/41/266, AN. Blatt, ‘Introduction’, 2.

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official rhetoric made no blatant speculations on the possibility of defeat, increasing references to the intention to continue the struggle no matter what happened resonated with the British public in a similar manner. ‘No matter what’ became an early metaphor for French defeat. Uncertainty in the initial days after the armistice request led to some hope, however small, that the French would continue the struggle from abroad after rejecting the armistice terms as dishonourable. British rhetoric during this period made it clear that Germany was incapable of honourable acts, making any agreement unconscionable. The benefits of de Gaulle’s presence in Britain at this point were not immediately apparent, as British officials sought to balance their relations with the current Bordeaux government and consolidate support within the broader French Empire. When the Franco-German armistice was signed on 22 June, both sides moved rapidly to shore up their positions with their own publics as well as important neutral territories, most notably the United States. Pétain’s new government described French defeat as a product of interwar decadence and material shortages. It promised renovation and renewal from the ashes of defeat. Political communiqués reconceptualised France as a neutral territory, which would act without prejudice to maintain this status.172 The British government continued to promise victory, and with it, France’s deliverance. It kept the notion of Franco-British collaboration alive by tying the French public to the ongoing war effort and offering up de Gaulle as the true voice of French interests. This was the beginning of a triangular rivalry between British, Vichy and Gaullist forces, in which competing claims of legitimacy and national sovereignty were at the heart of the issue. The French Empire would become the battleground upon which these claims were fought over, both in rhetoric and in blood. Why is it so important to understand how British and French wartime policies were being constructed and communicated in 1940? The ideas and arguments that were refined in May and June became central to British, Vichy and Free French strategies for the remainder of the war. The distinct wartime and post-war visions that each side voiced through its respective rhetorical strategy also impacted how wider wartime plans and operations were conceived, implemented and communicated. And for the victors, the moral tone that saturated wartime decision-making also occupied the core of post-war explanations for why the war was won. Nowhere were these arguments more contested than in France’s colonial empire. Empire became a powerful symbol of French sovereignty during the war. And retaining empire became a symbol of French 172

Baudouin, Diaries, 145.

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power at the close of war. The following chapters will track the evolution of these debates from the bombardment of the French fleet to the armed clashes that accompanied Syrian demands for independence in 1945. In attempting to explain, condemn or justify its policies, each side would rely upon the framework that it had built in the days after the armistice, mobilising competing ideas of sovereignty, legitimacy and the moral stance of their respective paths.

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2

‘The Real Question at Issue’ British Policy and the French Fleet

‘In the fullest harmony with the Dominions we are moving through a period of extreme danger and of splendid hope when every virtue of our race will be tested and all that we have and are will be freely staked’.1 Churchill’s words were published across the domestic press on 5 July 1940. They resounded in the aftermath of the British bombardment of the French fleet at the Algerian port of Mers el-Kébir. Their aim was to justify Operation Catapult as a ‘necessary tragedy’ carried out against an erstwhile ally. Official British explanations and local press analyses avoided discussing the starkly violent nature of the operations against the fleet. They preferred to press home the symbolic aspects of the operations. Namely, that Operation Catapult was proof of both the military and moral superiority of the British war effort. In July 1940, British policy towards the French fleet allowed policy-makers to take control of the wartime narrative. British rhetoric would justify the clashes as an example of the kind of decisive action that was necessary to ensure the defeat of the Axis powers and the liberation of France. But these claims were not uncontested. For Pétain’s Vichy government, the bombardments at Mers el-Kébir would become the cornerstone of images featuring Britain as a historic and contemporary threat to French sovereignty. The clashes that took place on 3 July 1940 between British and French forces at Mers el-Kébir have been subject to various interpretations on both sides of the Channel. On the British side, early analyses tended to vindicate the action. They echoed Churchill’s ‘unfortunate necessity’ rationale – the British simply could not risk the possibility of the French fleet falling into German or Italian hands. From the French perspective, the operations have more often been viewed as a betrayal of the Franco-British alliance and evidence of underlying British self-interest and historic perfidy. This latter perspective formed the crux of Jacques

1

‘“Period of Splendid Hope” Mr Churchill on Our Island Strength French Warships in British Hands’, The Times, 5 July 1940, 2.

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Costagliola’s argument. He saw the French as dual victims of both German and British determination to win the war at any cost. The Germans were willing to leave to us our ships, however, they demanded that they return from Britain. On 3 July, they posed an ultimatum: return them to their ports or the armistice will be void. On the same day, Catapult put everything into question, in Britain, at Oran, at Alexandria. The FrancoBritish war began loudly.2

As more archival materials became accessible in the 1970s, Anglophone scholarship began to take a more balanced perspective. But it continued to justify the basis upon which policy towards the fleet had been carried out. Writing on French Admiral François Darlan’s early policies, Robert Melka argued that the strategic importance of the fleet could not be ignored. However, he affirmed that Darlan never contemplated handing the fleet over to Germany. Nor did Hitler consider, prior to the Torch operations in 1942, taking it by force.3 In any case, the ultimate scuttling of the French Fleet at Toulon in 1942 showed that French promises not to allow the fleet to fall into German hands were genuine. Arthur Marder’s 1974 work, From the Dardanelles to Oran, argued, similarly, that Britain had miscalculated German and Italian intentions towards the fleet. However, this was of little consequence because Britain simply could not trust either party to keep its word.4 His analysis took a more pragmatic view of events, rather than intending to place blame upon one of the actors. It also framed the context of the decision-making process more realistically, taking into account how cognitive factors such as trust and uncertainty would have affected how available options were perceived. More than sixty years later, the topic of the French fleet and British policy towards it has continued to generate interest. For Philip Lasterle, Churchill was the driving force behind Operation Catapult. All other actors were reluctant bystanders. His focus upon Churchill and the French Admiral at Mers el-Kébir, Marcel-Bruno Gensoul, obscures the wider context and complexities of the decision-making process. Attempting to determine whether Mers el-Kébir was avoidable narrows the frame of interpretation and risks trying to answer a historical ‘what if?’.5 Moreover, comparing 2

3 4 5

Jacques Costagliola, La Guerre Anglo-Française 3 Juillet 1940–11 Novembre 1942: Un Conflit Parallèle et Tangent à la Seconde Guerre Mondiale (Coulommiers: Daulpha, 2005), 38. Robert L. Melka, ‘Darlan between Britain and Germany 1940–41’, Journal of Contemporary History, 8, no. 2 (1973): 58. Arthur Marder, From the Dardanelles to Oran (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1974), 288. Philippe Lasterle, ‘Could Admiral Gensoul Have Averted the Tragedy of Mers elKébir?’, The Journal of Military History 67, no. 3 (2003): 836.

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‘The Real Question at Issue’

the destruction at Mers el-Kébir to the more favourable negotiations at Alexandria does not account for the complexities inherent in the policy towards the Vichy French navy and the unique circumstances at each port. These differences led policy-makers to conclude that hostile action was acceptable at Mers el-Kébir, but not at Alexandria or Algiers, where civilian causalities and the destruction of British installations would have been too damaging. This was a point that John Colville, Private Secretary to Churchill emphasised in his introduction to Warren Tute’s book, The Deadly Stroke: ‘The War Cabinet reached the only possible conclusion. The ships at Plymouth, Portsmouth and Alexandria presented no insuperable difficulty … but a wide range of options must be offered to Admiral Gensoul at Oran’.6 Hervé Coutau-Bégarie and Claude Huan have pointed out that from a military perspective, the British course of action was sound.7 Given Britain’s very limited scope for offensive action at this point, confronting the French fleet was an attractive and feasible opportunity. Catapult gave British policy-makers the chance to deliver decisive action at a time when the immediate future of the British war effort was unclear. In this sense, actions against the fleet were a powerful symbol. They signalled British resolve in the ongoing conflict to domestic audiences, the new French state and the stubbornly neutral Americans. On the other hand, the bombardments gave the Vichy government a lucrative propaganda tool. As Martin Thomas and Richard Toye have argued, ‘Mers el-Kébir and Oran would become a shorthand for British treachery’.8 This and the following chapter build on the notion that Britain’s policy towards the French fleet extended beyond the sphere of military operations. In its conception and realisation, Catapult was a product of more than military capabilities and strategic imperatives. It was planned and carried out with an eye to how the operation would impact the prestige and credibility of the British war effort at home and abroad. Rhetoric played a central role by connecting British actions towards the fleet in 1940 with Britain’s ability to win the war at a future date. The images and memories that stemmed from this event would also play an important role in the war of words that developed between British, Vichy and

6

7 8

Warren Tute, The Deadly Stroke (London: Collins, 1973), 16. The two ports of Mers el-Kébir and Oran were both located outside of the French Algerian town of Oran. The former was used for military ships while the latter housed commercial ships. Hervé Coutau-Bégarie and Claude Huan, Mers el-Kébir (1940) La Rupture FrancoBritannique (Paris: Economica, 1994), 108. Martin Thomas and Richard Toye, Arguing About Empire: Imperial Rhetoric in Britain and France, 1882–1956 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 163.

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The Early Significance of the French Fleet

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Free French forces in the years that followed. Future clashes at Dakar and in the Levant would be added to a list of British crimes against the Vichy government, which began at Mers el-Kébir. Allocating two chapters to Catapult is essential to fully understand the nuances of the decision-making process. Doing so makes clear how British policy-makers integrated their expectations of how the public would react to the operations themselves. Planning for Operation Catapult included anticipating and managing public responses within Britain as well as further afield in France and the United States. Furthermore, policy-makers emphasised from the beginning how important it was to achieve public support for these actions and they included dynamic plans to foster this backing. In other words, the policy-making process, the bombardments themselves and the rhetoric that justified them were all interdependent. British thinking about the French fleet included considerations of its military capabilities. But it also contained a careful analysis of how a possible neutralisation of the fleet might be justified. Herein lies the link between the decisions that were made behind closed doors and the ways in which those policies were subsequently justified and debated in public. Policymaking during this period betrayed an early preoccupation with the desire to translate decisions into convincing press releases and public statements. This discourse mobilised heroic rhetoric that confirmed British superiority and the certainty of eventual victory. For the Vichy government, the bombardments became emblematic of Britain’s inherent perfidy. Rather than a symbol of strength and resolve, they came to embody the mistrust that had long plagued France and Britain’s historic relationship. In the initial discussions surrounding the French fleet, there was a consensus within the War Cabinet and across the Service Ministries that something should be done to safeguard it for the Allied cause. However, this sentiment was moderated to account for the need to justify British actions in a manner that would preserve Britain’s moral superiority and avoid compromising abiding pro-French sentiment amongst the British public. These concerns impacted how Catapult was conceptualised. They imposed tangible constraints on the operation, especially in relation to the use of force. From the outset, British strategists viewed local and global public support as vital, if intangible, aspects of the broader conflict. The Early Significance of the French Fleet The French fleet and naval affairs more generally played a crucial role in French and British perceptions of themselves and of one another throughout the Second World War. This was particularly true immediately after

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France withdrew from the conflict. An internal French circular described the fleet as ‘one of the essential elements of our international situation’.9 For metropolitan France, the fleet was a symbol of prestige, power and legitimacy. It was the protector of the empire and a hypothetical bargaining chip with the Axis powers.10 The French navy was the most modernised and least demoralised of all the French armed services. This was a result of the huge sums of money invested in it between 1922 and 1940 and the fact that in June it remained undefeated.11 Its importance, as second in size only to the British fleet, was a source of strategic concern to British policy-makers. To London and the Admiralty, the fleet was a dangerous liability. Neutralising it would relieve fears that Germany would take the fleet for itself while also sending a powerful message of British power. On 23 June, King George VI sent a message to French President Albert Lebrun. In it, he expressed his concern over the safety of the French fleet.12 Messages such as this one quickly became a source of annoyance to the French. The Americans, a report from the French Foreign Ministry complained, were just as paranoid and pushy as the British. President Roosevelt had also written, on 16 June, recommending that the French fleet be sent to British ports as soon as possible.13 Even before the Franco-German and Franco-Italian armistices went into effect on 25 June, the British were considering how to ensure that the French fleet did not become a threat. The fate of two modern battleships, Dunkerque and Strasbourg, was a source of significant anxiety. These two ships were first mentioned on 15 June in a message from First Sea Lord Dudley Pound to admirals Andrew Cunningham and Dudley North. This note, authorised by Churchill, suggested using gun and torpedo fire to destroy the ships in question if they were in immediate danger of falling into the hands of the enemy.14 At a meeting between Churchill, Pound and First Lord of the Admiralty A. V. Alexander on 17 June, there was a general discussion regarding ‘the disposal of the French Fleet which would arise in certain eventualities’.15 The strategic importance of the fleet only increased after the Franco-German armistice was 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Brown, The Road to Oran, xxix. P. M. H. Bell, A Certain Eventuality (Scotland: Saxon House, 1974), 38. Chalmers Hood, Royal Republicans: The French Naval Dynasties between the World War (Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 1985), 142. King Georve VI to Lebrun, 23 June 1940, 10GMII/334, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (henceforth MAE). Roosevelt to Lebrun, 16 June 1940, 10GMII/334, MAE. David Brown, The Road to Oran: Anglo-French Naval Relations September 1939–July 1940 (New York: Frank Cass, 2004), 36. Report of a meeting with Churchill, 1st S.L. (Pound) and V.C.N.S., 17 June 1940, AVAR 5/4/26, Churchill Archive Centre (henceforth CCAC).

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signed. The War Cabinet considered taking action as early as 22 June to secure Oran as an alternative British naval base to Gibraltar.16 Admiral James Somerville, who led Force H stationed at Gibraltar, was concerned. On 24 June, he noted in his pocket diary, ‘news about French Fleet not so good’.17 Alexander Cadogan, Permanent Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs, highlighted the extent to which questions regarding the fleet consumed policy-makers in the wake of the collapse. Writing on 24 June, he reflected on the three Cabinet meetings that had taken place that day. The majority of the time was spent ‘discussing the awful problem of the French Fleet’.18 On 26 June, the general conclusion reached by the War Cabinet (Churchill was absent from this discussion) was that there was little hope of further French resistance in North Africa or continued naval participation.19 This realisation prompted Cabinet members to seriously consider possible solutions to neutralise the fleet. In fact, steps had already been taken to secure the key French ship Richelieu and take it to a British port for at least the duration of the war. This move was to be explained to the Captain of the Richelieu as stemming not from British scepticism of Admiral Darlan’s promises, but rather a rational inability to depend upon the word of Germany or Italy.20 At the same meeting, Pound reported upon the situation at Oran. The Admiralty was worried that Dunkerque and Strasbourg would depart for a French or Italian port on the north coast of the Mediterranean and had stationed two British submarines outside of the port to stop any movement. The Cabinet discussed whether the submarines should be limited to surveillance, or if they should ‘take action against’ the ships.21 Officials did not reach a decision on this question immediately, but their discussions signalled a broader mindset. British policy-makers recognised the importance of the French fleet, and there was a willingness to use violence in order to ensure its non-participation in the ongoing conflict. On the British side, this sense of uneasiness surrounding the French fleet was based on a number of factors. As a military asset, the fleet was certainly of great value. First Sea Lord Pound estimated that the

16 17 18 19 20 21

‘Implications of Securing Oran as an Alternative Base to Gibraltar’, 22 June 1940, CAB 84/15, The National Archives (henceforth TNA). Somerville’s Pocket Diary, 1940, 24 June 1940, SMVL 1/31, CCAC. Alexander Cadogan, The Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan 1938–1945, ed. David Dilks (London: Cassell, 1971), 306. War Cabinet 183 (40) Conclusions, 26 June 1940, 11:30 a.m., CAB 65/7/78, TNA. W.M.(40) 183rd Conclusions, Minute 5, Confidential Annex, 26 June 1940, 11:30 a.m., CAB 65/13/52, TNA. Ibid.

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Germans would be able to achieve full operational capabilities of the fleet in only 2–3 months.22 The contemporary accuracy of this calculation matters less than its perceived accuracy in 1940. Admiral Darlan’s repeated promises that the fleet would under no circumstances be allowed to fall into German hands were of little value to the British. War Cabinet discussions confirmed the opinion that the French would not be able to honour this promise while under the German thumb. More importantly, Germany was unlikely to uphold any agreement of non-interference. Another issue also impacted how British policy-makers thought about the fleet: their desire to demonstrate on a local- and global-level Britain’s strength and resolve in continuing the war. When decision-makers decided to take action against the fleet, they were not envisaging its complete destruction. Rather, neutralising it on British terms would keep it out of Axis hands while simultaneously showcasing British power. This way of thinking will be crucial in understanding how and why British policy towards the fleet was discussed and agreed upon over the next week. Policy-makers operated under two main assumptions. First, some elements of the French fleet were strategically more important than others. Recall the early discussions surrounding the fate of Dunkerque and Strasbourg. Second, the symbolic importance of taking confident and decisive action against the fleet played a significant role in how Catapult was planned. British action against the French fleet was a visual demonstration of how policy-makers hoped to portray Britain’s position within the conflict: as a powerful yet moral actor capable of carrying forward the struggle. This idea will be especially evident in the care that policy-makers took to avoid civilian causalities. And while British leaders were anxious to bolster public opinion at home, they were also eager to showcase British strength and resolve to an American audience. Planning Catapult and the American Factor One historian has argued that Churchill imposed his own solution regarding the French fleet over the objections of his ministers.23 Insisting that Churchill pressured his cabinet to ratify hostile action against the French Navy oversimplifies the way in which policy towards the French fleet developed. It also ignores the broader symbolic value of the Catapult operations. British policy towards the French fleet embodied its promise to successfully prosecute the war and signalled to the Americans that Britain was a safe investment. We know that in late June, there was 22 23

Brown, Road to Oran, xxxvi. Lasterle, ‘Admiral Gensoul’, 839.

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a general consensus between Churchill, his Cabinet, and the Admiralty that action should be taken to ‘neutralise’ the fleet, or strategic ships within it. Doing so would safeguard the war effort and contribute to the defence of Britain.24 This point was reiterated at the 27 June War Cabinet meeting where members noted, ‘The real question at issue was what to do as regards the French ships at Oran’.25 On the same day, Somerville was notified that he would be commanding Force H to secure ‘the transfer, surrender or destruction of the French warships at Oran and Mers el Kébir, so as to ensure that these ships could not fall into German or Italian hands’.26 Churchill proposed three alternatives to the War Cabinet. First, the ships could immediately be mined with magnetic mines. Second, a British naval contingent could give those ships a number of alternatives, including demilitarisation under British control, transfer to British ports, or to be sunk in three hours. Third, two submarines could be posted outside Oran, which would sink the ships if they attempted to leave.27 Using destructive force against the French fleet was always the last resort, although a possibility, nonetheless. The 27 June Cabinet meeting made it very clear that the ships berthed at Oran, specifically the military port of Mers el-Kébir, were vitally important to British interests. Although the possibility of combining operations at Oran with others in the Mediterranean or with attempts to secure the Richelieu and Jean Bart, was mentioned, plans for Oran always took priority. The second part of the meeting addressed British public opinion surrounding the French fleet. From the outset, policy-makers were considering and taking measures to try to influence how wartime operations were likely to be received by members of the public. In discussion, the view was expressed that it was most important to take action to ensure that the French Fleet could not be used against us. Public opinion was strongly insistent that we should take action on the lines of the measures taken at Copenhagen against the Danish Fleet. In this connection, however, references which were now appearing in the Press, as to measures which might be taken against the French Fleet, were greatly to be deprecated, and instructions should be sent to ensure that this matter was not discussed in the Press.28

24 25 26 27 28

Ibid., 838. Marder, Dardanelles to Oran, 198. WM (40) 184th Conclusions, Minute 5, Confidential Annex, 27 June 1940, 12 noon, CAB 65/13/53, TNA. ‘Admiral Somerville’s Official Report’, 26 July 1940, ADM 199/826, TNA. WM (40) 184th Conclusions, Minute 5, Confidential Annex, 27 June 1940, 12 noon, CAB 65/13/53, TNA. Ibid.

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The War Cabinet agreed that action should be taken against the fleet. It also acknowledged that public opinion was in favour of this approach. Pétain’s government, by this time settled in the French spa town of Vichy, was also keeping careful track of British opinion. From London, Charge d’ Affaires Roger Cambon sent regular analyses of the British press to Vichy. He concluded that confidence in Britain remained relatively strong after events in France. The population was focused largely on the battle ahead and the possibility of German invasion.29 Decisive action to secure the French fleet would strengthen public confidence even further. War Cabinet members believed that the majority of the British population was likely to approve of operations against the fleet. But local reactions were not the only source of concern. British decision-makers were also trying to shape a wartime policy that would garner support from further afield. In this vein, the War Cabinet agreed that hypothetical operations should not be discussed in the press. The press would be informed that ‘discussion of such measures might have an unfavourable reaction in French circles which we hoped to rally to our side’.30 It was even more important to avoid actions that would drive away popular French support given that General de Gaulle was still struggling to gain adherents to his Free French movement. Admiral Cunningham, the Commander in Chief of the Mediterranean fleet, wrote to Pound of de Gaulle: ‘No one has any opinion of him’.31 Quashing press speculation ahead of operations against the fleet would give London a clean slate upon which to explain how and why operations had been carried out. By the end of the meeting, the War Cabinet had agreed to move forward. It would prepare an ultimatum, and Pound and Alexander were instructed to begin arranging the details of an operation to neutralise the French fleet.32 In the days that followed, the Cabinet commissioned a series of investigative studies. Its goal was to understand how operations against the French fleet were likely to affect a number of stakeholders. The reports emphasised the role that Catapult would play, both on a strategic and symbolic level. On 29 June, Churchill requested a memorandum analysing the implications of an aggressive policy towards the French Navy.33 An initial report, compiled by the Cabinet’s Joint Planning Sub Committee (JPSC), reached several conclusions. The first concerned the American 29 30 31 32 33

Telegram, Cambon to Vichy, 30 June 1940, 10GMII/296, MAE. WM (40) 184th Conclusions, Minute 5, Confidential Annex, 27 June 1940, 12 noon, CAB 65/13/53, TNA. Simpson, Cunningham Papers, 82. Ibid. ‘Implications of Action Contemplated in Respect of Certain French Ships’, 29 June 1940, CAB 84/15, TNA.

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reaction. It suggested that favourable American opinion of the British would increase in response to the proposed action. American opposition to the Franco-German armistice meant that American opinion already favoured the British at the expense of the French.34 This conclusion was echoed in Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax’s report. Drawing on information provided by the American Undersecretary of State, he suggested ‘In the view of the American Government, the surrender of the French Fleet was the most degrading surrender in history …. It seemed safe to assume that any action which we might take in respect of the French Fleet would be applauded in the United States’.35 American approval was and would continue to be a frequent consideration in British wartime policy. Roosevelt’s likely endorsement of Catapult was reiterated in a War Cabinet meeting on 3 July.36 However, the JPSC report concluded with a warning. Any British actions against the French fleet could spark a French reaction. And it was impossible to know what this might look like. At the worst the French re-actions might be extremely serious and would then immensely complicate the already heavy task. If, therefore, there is a genuine danger that the action proposed would lead to the active hostility of France and of her colonial possessions, we do not consider that the destruction of these French ships by force would be justified.37

Despite these uncertainties, the Chiefs of Staff (COS) did not believe that France would declare war against Britain. Of course, they were correct. They believed that there were strong strands of defeatism in both metropolitan and colonial France, making it unlikely that French officials would be able to raise a force of any significance against the British.38 More importantly, the plans that were being negotiated within the War Cabinet continued to focus upon the principal ships at Mers el-Kébir. The harbour installations and proximity to civilian enclaves of Algiers and Alexandria largely ruled out the use of naval bombardment. This meant that the operations at Mers el-Kébir were always much more likely to end in violence. On 30 June, the War Cabinet COS Committee compiled a final report. It took into consideration the recommendations that had been discussed over the past week. And it re-emphasised the relative importance of the 34 35 36 37 38

Ibid. WM (40) 187th Conclusions Minute 8, Confidential Annex, 29 June 1940, 10 a.m., CAB 65/13/55, TNA. Conclusions, Minute 5 Confidential Annex, 3 July 1940, CAB 65/14/3, TNA. ‘Implications of Action Contemplated in Respect of Certain French Ships’, 29 June 1940, CAB 84/15, TNA. Chiefs of Staff, ‘Implications of French Hostility, Draft Report’, 4 July 1940, CAB 80/14, TNA.

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fleet at Mers el-Kébir. Action was conceptualised around six alternatives: (1) requesting active participation by the French Navy in the war; (2) requesting French ships to come to British ports where they would not be actively involved in the war; (3) demilitarisation of French ships; (4) scuttling of French ships; (5) taking no further action if the French did not agree to any of the above four alternatives; and (6) ‘in the last resort to take action against the French Fleet at Oran’.39 The study concluded with the following recommendation: We have given most careful consideration to the implications of taking action against the French Fleet at Oran and, after balancing all the arguments both for and against such action, we have reached the conclusion on balance that the operations contemplated should be carried out.40

This aide-memoire reflected key concerns evident throughout the decision-making process, namely the French ships at Oran. Option five, to refrain from further action should the French refuse all of the alternatives, was quickly eliminated. While Churchill and his staff were discussing the proposed Catapult operations, the Admiralty was providing operational instructions to admirals Somerville and Cunningham. Cunningham would lead operations against the Free fleet at Alexandria. On 30 June, the War Cabinet had also decided to expand Catapult to include French ‘men-of-war’ in the eastern Mediterranean and British ports.41 Communications directed to Somerville’s Force H between 29 and 30 June emphasised two familiar preoccupations: the perceived importance of Dunkerque and Strasbourg and the necessity of avoiding civilian causalities. Force H was instructed not to carry out earlier proposed operations at the neighbouring port of Algiers. In light of the ‘strength of defences at Algiers and impossibility of avoiding destruction of town, it is not, repetition, not considered justifiable to carry out an operation against that place’. [sic]42 On 30 June, the Admiralty sent a signal to Force H and Admiral Cunningham with provisional details of the decision to take action against the French fleet at Mers el-Kébir. A separate naval cypher was also sent to Force H stating: ‘It is the firm intention of H.M.G. that if the French will not accept any of the alternatives which are being sent to you their ships must be destroyed’.43 The ultimatum contained four alternatives, 39 40 41 42 43

War Cabinet Chief of Staff Committee Memoranda, ‘Implications of Action Contemplated in Respect of Certain French Ships’, 30 June 1940, CAB 80/14, TNA. Ibid. Gilbert, Finest Hour, 629. ‘Operation “Catapult”’, 29 June 1940, SMVL 7/19, CCAC. Admiralty to Vice Admiral Force H, 1 July 1941, ADM 1/10321, TNA.

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which Somerville would deliver to Admiral Gensoul. They included: (1) French ships sail to British harbours to continue the fight; (2) French ships sail to British ports where they would be kept until the conclusion of the war; (3) French ships immediately demilitarised to British satisfaction; and (4) French ships would scuttle themselves.44 These alternatives were later modified. Demilitarisation was replaced with the option of sailing to a French port in the West Indies. Somerville could only agree to demilitarisation if the French suggested it themselves after rejecting all of the other alternatives.45 The Admiralty provided further details in the final paragraph of Somerville’s instructions. They reiterated the necessity of removing from service key ships in the French fleet: If none of the above alternatives are accepted by the French you are to endeavour to destroy ships in MERS EL KEBIR but particularly DUNQUERQUE and STRASBOURG, using all means at your disposal. Ships at Oran should also be destroyed if this will not entail any considerable loss of civilian life.46

The object of Catapult was never to destroy the fleet as a whole. Every report that considered action against it acknowledged that the use of force was viable only within the port of Mers el-Kébir. The nuances of the operation become clear if we compare the instructions that were drawn up for Mers el-Kébir with those that were written for Alexandria. A similar naval bombardment at Alexandria was not feasible as it ‘would seriously damage Britain’s own naval installations …’47 The ultimatum that Admiral Cunningham gave to Admiral René-Émile Godfroy, the commander of Force X, was more lenient. The ships at this port did not have the same strategic value as those at Mers el-Kébir. The Alexandria ultimatum, which Cunningham received on 2 July, first expressed the desire to obtain the ships for British use. It then included two options if Godfroy refused. He could leave the ships at Alexandria in ‘non-seagoing condition’ with skeleton crews or scuttle the ships at sea.48 The operations that were planned and carried out at Mers el-Kébir under Admiral Somerville, at Alexandria under Admiral Cunningham and at British ports were all motivated by Britain’s desire to secure the French fleet. However, there were fundamental differences in how each

44 45 46 47 48

Admiralty to Force H and C-in-C Mediterranean, 30 June 1940, ADM 1/10321, TNA. Marder, Dardanelles to Oran, 232–233. ‘Operation “Catapult”’, SMLV 7/19, 29 June 1940, CCAC. Martin Gilbert, Winston S. Churchill, vol. 6, Finest Hour 1939–1941 (Hillsdale, Michigan: Hillsdale College Press, 1983), 640. Simpson, Cunningham Papers, 89–90.

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operation was conceptualised and carried out. These differences were a product of the strategic value of the ships at each port. They also reflected a pragmatic evaluation of the use of violence. British policymakers wanted to protect harbour installations where possible. But they also sought to avoid damaging civilian installations and incurring civilian causalities. It is important to recognise these subtleties within the policy-making process because they impacted how decision-makers justified their policy within the framework of a just and moral war. Michael Bess has demonstrated that moral considerations played a crucial role in wartime policy-making and actions.49 The rhetoric of a moral war was no less important. Policy-makers wielded moral arguments as rhetorical weapons. British strategy towards the French fleet was more than Churchill forcing a pet project onto a reluctant Cabinet. The development of Operation Catapult was driven by a range of attitudes. Policy-makers viewed the fleet not only as a strategic asset but also understood that neutralising it could send a powerful message about Britain’s war effort. The memorandums produced within or for use by the War Cabinet combined these strategic concerns with the desire to use action against the fleet as a way to showcase British power, particularly to an American audience. Certainly, Churchill played a large role, not only in the formulation of policy but also in its dissemination to the public through his own speeches and statements. But he was not acting alone. Even this draft message, which was delivered to Admiral Gensoul at Mers elKébir, was crafted jointly by Churchill and the Admiralty. It is impossible for us, your comrades up till now, to allow your fine ships to fall into the power of the German or Italian enemy. We are determined to fight on to the end, and if we win, as we think we shall, we shall never forget that France was our ally, that our interests are the same as hers, and that our common enemy is Germany. Should we conquer we solemnly declare that we shall restore the greatness of France, and that not an inch of her territory shall be alienated. For this purpose we must make sure that the best ships of the French Navy are not used against us by the common foe.50

The COS also played an important and influential role in refining Operation Catapult. They backed Catapult but refused to sanction Operation Susan, a plan to set up a French Government outside of metropolitan France, despite heavy pressure from Churchill. Episodes such 49 50

Michael Bess, Choices under Fire: Moral Dimensions of World War II (New York: Vintage Books, 2006), 4. Admiralty to Force H and C-in-C Mediterranean, 30 June 1940, ADM 1/10321, TNA.

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as these demonstrate a more even distribution of power and influence, particularly at a point when Churchill had yet to completely win over the government.51 On 1 July at a 6 p.m. War Cabinet meeting, members reviewed the final details of the Catapult operations, including the ultimatum to be handed to Admiral Gensoul. The French Naval Attaché Admiral Oden’hal had  earlier told the Vice Chief of the Naval Staff that Darlan had telegrammed asking the British to reserve final judgment until the details of the armistice conditions were known. Churchill had replied: ‘discussions as to the armistice conditions could not affect the real facts of the situation’.52 Catapult was set to proceed. At the same meeting members chose not to offer Gensoul the option to demilitarise his ships.53 If Gensoul suggested demilitarisation himself, this could be accepted only if the process was completed within six hours and rendered the ships useless for a year.54 The text of the final ultimatum continued to align French and British interests. An earlier draft suggested that France’s reputation would be tarnished if Germany seized the fleet. However, the wording was modified to argue that by complying with British requests, France and Britain would become partners in safeguarding French honour. The final version claimed ‘that the arrangements that we were proposing was consistent with French honour’ [sic].55 This appeal, which also contained the four alternatives to be offered to Admiral Gensoul, was sent to Somerville. Cunningham also received a copy. Operational plans were now nearly complete. However, before they were launched on 3 July, British policy-makers had one final task. They had to construct a message that positioned Catapult firmly within Britain’s wartime mantra of honourable struggle, eventual victory and French salvation. Justifying Operation Catapult In July 1940, Churchill’s government had little room to manoeuvre. The War Cabinet tended to back actions that were militarily feasible but would also demonstrate Britain’s commitment to continue fighting the war. In the case of the French fleet, it seemed inconceivable to leave such a valuable asset to the Axis powers. At the same time, policy-makers did not want to risk driving French support away from the British war 51 52 53 54 55

Gilbert, Finest Hour, 630–631. Conclusions, Minute 1, Confidential Annex, 1 July 1940, CAB 65/14/1, TNA. Ibid. War Cabinet Conclusions, 2 July 1940, CAB 65/8/3, TNA. Ibid.

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effort. And they did not know how the British public would respond to violent action taken against an ally, even one that was no longer an active combatant. They recognised that any operation against the fleet would have to be justified to the British public as well as opinion in France and the United States. By comparing the discussions that took place in the War Cabinet and the Admiralty to the statements that were crafted for the press and public, it will become evident that preparations to justify Operation Catapult were an essential part of the policy-making process. Policy-makers thought about how different groups of the public would respond to an operation. And these considerations influenced how operations were conceptualised, implemented and justified. The operations at Mers el-Kébir, and the rhetoric that followed them, were used to demonstrate British power and strength and to press home Britain’s wartime narrative, which culminated in an Allied victory. In the days leading up to 3 July, Admiralty officials began finalising the content of public statements for Catapult. On 2 July, Lord Alexander gave Churchill the rough draft of a press release, which would be distributed by the Ministry of Information (MOI) after the operations had commenced. The draft contained two sections. The first suggested a timeline for publication and the second proposed the text of the release. The timing of the press release was crucial and would depend upon how smoothly the operations had proceeded or were proceeding. Alexander considered two likely scenarios. In the first, the text would be released after the operation was completed. ‘The publication of the news of our action in regard to the French Fleet must be carefully timed. If things go well it would be desirable to wait until the operation whatever form it takes is complete, and then to announce it with a justification of our actions’.56 In this scenario, Gensoul would accept British terms, and there would be no bloodshed. Catapult would be celebrated as a wellconsidered and smoothly run operation. In the second scenario, French resistance to British demands and/or clashes between the French and British squadrons called for a slightly different approach. If the operation did not go as planned, the MOI would release a statement addressing the actions as they unfolded. ‘… trouble may ensue and it will then be necessary to explain our attitude and the reasons for the action which we are taking’.57 Having two alternatives for timing the release of the official explanation was important. Decision-makers wanted to control as much as possible the circulation of potentially negative or divisive news. Remember that the War Cabinet 56 57

Alexander to Churchill, 2 July 1940, PREM 3/179/4, TNA. Ibid.

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had earlier agreed to suppress discussion in the press of possible action against the fleet. This tactic allowed official explanations to be written and published without having to first address or acknowledge prior speculations. Policy-makers were also cognisant that sections of the British public still resented having been coddled with exaggerated reports of Allied successes during the battle for the Low Countries and France. There was an overwhelming demand amongst much of the population to be kept informed about the war, whether the news was good or bad. The draft press releases relating to Catapult in July 1940 acknowledged this sentiment. They endeavoured to avoid the backlash that would result from misinforming the public or suppressing bad news. This latter point was key. The British government wished to construct a particular image of itself to present to the public: a decision-making body that was capable of successfully prosecuting the war. Keeping the population abreast of developing operations, even if they were in the midst of crisis, built a sense of credibility and trustworthiness. The content of Alexander’s press communiqué was just as important as the timing of its publication. ‘But in any event it would seem that the basis of justification for our action is to be found in the communication which the Vice-Admiral Commanding has been instructed to make to the French Commander, and this could well be published as it stands, together with any necessary information’.58 Alexander’s plan emphasised how important it was to justify the operation to the public. It recognised that British policy towards the fleet needed to be explained. But these explanations also needed to convince their audience of the necessity of that course of action. Within the body of the draft press statement, several features in the text stood out. First, at no time was blame placed upon any individual. Rather, the document referred only to the vague body of ‘the French Government’ in describing or justifying the actions that were taken by the British. This technique, and the overall tone of the piece, administered blame in a general sense on French leadership, not the population as a whole. The War Cabinet was keen to avoid fostering Francophobia within Britain and the wider empire. In the week before Catapult, the British public were anxious about the fate of the French fleet but were still sympathetic to the plight of the French population more broadly.59 The language proposed to justify Catapult built on the themes that had been used to criticise the Franco-German armistice and delegitimise 58 59

Ibid. Cambon à Vichy, 25 June 1940, 10GMII/292, MAE.

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the Vichy government. The press release first criticised the French decision to request an armistice. It used this critique as a foundation to argue that Britain’s response to the fleet was unavoidable. This strategy aimed to convince the reader that British action was not only necessary but also that it was morally and ethically sound. The core of the argument was framed in the opening sentence: ‘The French Government felt that they were unable to continue the struggle on land against Germany and in spite of agreements solemnly entered into with His Majesty’s Government, sought an armistice of the German Government’.60 In the second half of the statement, Alexander contended that seeking the armistice was a violation of the Franco-British agreement not to conclude a separate peace. This claim established Britain’s legal right to engage in actions that would fix the damage caused by breaking this contract. Following these assertions, the draft made two claims. First, the fate of the French fleet would influence Britain’s ability to win the war. Second, despite honourable British actions to protect the fleet prior to the armistice request, the French had not acquiesced. This refusal left the British no choice but to take further action. Doing so was the only way to secure itself and its citizens from German and Italian aggression.61 German promises not to commandeer the fleet for itself, the press release emphasised, could not be trusted. Even the grammatical construction of the press release emphasised the wilful actions of Pétain’s government in the days leading up to Mers el-Kébir. ‘The French Government’ as an active subject was the focus in the first half of the narration. In sum: The French Government felt that they were unable to continue the struggle on land …, the French Government approached the German Government with a request for an armistice …, The French Government … assured His Majesty’s Government that they would never sign ‘dishonourable terms of an armistice with the enemy’ …, … the French Government have put themselves in a position in which it may be impossible for them to give effect to those assurances …62

The British Government, on the other hand, was referred to only in the passive tense. As a result, it appeared that the British government was being acted upon, rather than controlling actions around it. Rather than saying ‘Churchill’s government recognised the importance of the French fleet to the on-going war effort’, the publication observed that

60 61 62

Alexander to Churchill, 2 July 1940, PREM 3/179/4, TNA. Ibid. Ibid.

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the value of the fleet ‘was pointed out to them …’63 Passive voice made the subject implicit by emphasising the direct object. This made Catapult appear to be an automatic or inevitable response to French action. In the second half of the draft statement, the British government began to take a more active role. However, the message still relied substantially upon broad arguments of inevitability. The British were portrayed as having little choice in their subsequent actions: ‘In these circumstances His Majesty’s Government have felt constrained to take action to ensure that important units of the French Fleet shall not come under enemy control for possible use against the British Empire’.64 This press release placed full responsibility for the chain of events leading to 3 July on the French government. British agency was all but eliminated. The reader was left with the perception that there was simply no other course of action that the British could have taken. This draft was the response to a best-case scenario, in which the French admiralty chose not to resist British demands. Unfortunately, Catapult did not go as smoothly as policy-makers hoped. Conclusion British policy towards the French fleet rested upon a broad two-part consensus. First, the strategic importance of the fleet meant that it had to be protected against German or Italian seizure. Second, the process of neutralising the fleet would be adapted according to the actual circumstances at each port and the ships that were docked there. From early on, military considerations played a crucial role. Any planned actions had to account for material limitations faced by British naval forces. They also had to try to anticipate how the French would respond to British actions, especially hostile ones. Previous studies have not considered the nuances of British policy towards the French fleet as well as the limitations it faced. This chapter has laid out these differences as crucial to understanding how and why operations would develop differently at each port. It has also laid the groundwork for understanding how rhetoric would, in the aftermath of the bombardments, distort policy in favour of presenting a coherent image of British strength and resolve. The significance of the rhetoric that surrounded Mers el-Kébir, for both British and French policy-makers, will become more apparent in the following chapter.

63 64

Ibid. Ibid.

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‘The Real Question at Issue’

As soon as discussions regarding the French fleet commenced, it was clear that neutralising the ships at Mers el-Kébir, particularly Dunkerque and Strasbourg, was a top priority. Their location, within a military port, also meant that bombardment was viable. Collateral damages such as civilian causalities and the destruction of the town were not pertinent factors. Considering and limiting Catapult based on the possibility of civilian deaths reflected beliefs within the War Cabinet that civilian losses in wartime were still indefensible, or at least more difficult to defend. These discussions showed that when formulating policies, decision-makers did not only consider what was feasible on a purely military level. They also accounted for the need to explain and justify wartime operations on a normative and moral level within the public sphere. By anticipating how the public might respond to a particular operation, policy-makers were accounting for popular opinion (or at least their conception of it) when they were making policy. They were recognising that rhetorical, as well as military battles, were an important element of wartime operations. The perceived innocence of civilians acted as a limiting factor in the same way that material strength did. Examining how Britain’s policy towards the French fleet was being made in the War Cabinet has made clear that assessments of public opinion, in Britain, France and the United States, did play a role in the minds of decision-makers. This was apparent in the early acknowledgement that British public opinion was already receptive to action against the French fleet. It resurfaced as decision-makers were weighing out strategic considerations and writing a press release justifying the operation. The desire to maintain pro-British sentiments in metropolitan France served as an additional check on British rhetoric. Understanding the Catapult operations means appreciating how decision-makers created policy behind closed doors and how they defended this policy in the public sector. This approach highlights the interdependencies between policy-making and the public sphere. And it shows how important it was for policy-makers to craft a wider wartime narrative that linked present policies to future promises. Reinhart Koselleck has asserted, ‘An ability to speak convincingly about the future … has become one of the requisites of legitimate authority in modern politics’.65 For British decision-makers, policy towards the French fleet symbolised a promise of future victory. The early draft press release displayed a clear attempt to exonerate and justify British actions

65

Jon Cowans, ‘Visions of the Postwar: The Politics of Memory and Expectation in 1940s France’, History and Memory 10, no. 2 (1998): 70.

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on a moral level. It lay the blame at the door of the French government without incriminating the broader French public. This approach attempted to keep the idea of Franco-British partnership alive by making one of the Britain’s wartime aims the liberation of France. As events around the fleet unfolded, policy-makers would be forced to modify their press releases to not only reflect but also more importantly justify the starker reality of the outcome. How they would do this would reveal the ever-present concern for public sentiment at home, within the French metropole and in the United States. At the same time, Britain’s wartime narrative would find itself pitted against that of the metropolitan French government.

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3

A Necessary Tragedy? The British Bombardments of the French Fleet at Mers El-Kébir

On 3 July 1940, in an 11:30 a.m. War Cabinet meeting, British ministers made three decisions. First, they agreed not to release to the public precise statistics concerning air raid deaths and injuries. They believed these details could damage morale. Second, they sent a noncommittal note to former French premier Édouard Daladier in response to his request to come to Britain. The reason for this delaying tactic was that his presence in Britain ‘might be embarrassing politically’.1 These first two decisions reflected the value that policy-makers placed on making the British government appear powerful and decisive in the eyes of the public. Maintaining a strong public façade was a way to make official ‘inevitable victory’ promises appear more credible. Third, Churchill’s ministerial colleagues confirmed that the Prime Minister would address the Commons the following day to explain the operations currently underway to contain the French fleet.2 Churchill’s speech was only one in a series of public announcements concerning the fleet. As the Catapult negotiations dragged on, policy-makers continued to revise and re-revise press statements and speeches explaining why the Royal Navy had just engaged in what was ostensibly an act of war against its former ally. The planning process has demonstrated that a range of factors and concerns shaped the operational boundaries of Catapult. The French fleet was important to Pétain’s government. It was the fourth largest navy in the world.3 But its value transcended that of a strategic asset. It was a symbol of its sovereignty and the protector of its empire. For Britain, the fleet was seen as a strategic liability to its ongoing war effort. But it was also an opportunity to take decisive action that would demonstrate Britain’s commitment and ability to continue the war. Thus, British

1 2 3

War Cabinet 192 (40) Conclusions, 3 July 1940, CAB/65/8/4, The National Archives (henceforth TNA). Ibid. Alan Allport, Britain at Bay: The Epic Story of the Second World War: 1938–1941 (London: Profile Books, 2020), 194.

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policy towards the fleet was a product of strategic concerns as well as less tangible factors such as public opinion. Decision-makers were careful to consider how different groups inside and outside of Britain would react to violence being used against the fleet. Military operations against the fleet were viable from a material perspective. Yet, symbolic ethical and moral considerations played a key role in isolating violent action to specific ports where the risk of extensive civilian causalities was minimised. This chapter will move on from the plans for Operation Catapult to consider how events developed on the ground. Material factors such as limited time and poor communications impacted the outcome at Mers el-Kébir. It will then explore the justifications and condemnations that exploded in reaction to the bombardments – the war of words. These debates moved decisively away from conceptualising the events as a strategic wartime operation. Instead, the bombardments were interpreted in much more subjective and emotional terms. In British justifications, the bombardments were a necessary tragedy. In metropolitan France, they were a vicious stab in the back. Until operation Catapult commenced on 3 July, British policy-makers had to plan their rhetoric around a number of possible outcomes. This process illustrated that the operations at Mers el-Kébir were more than a strategic gambit. For many within Britain, they were the manifestation of a broader sentiment that called for – and indeed craved – decisive action. The press releases and radio addresses that emerged from the War Cabinet and Admiralty offices highlighted the desire to gain approval not just from the British public but also from further afield. Specifically, from within governing circles in Washington and the wider American public. These goals made the public representation of the operations critical. Discussions over how to present the outcome of Catapult were a significant part of the planning process that unfolded in the War Cabinet. What emerged, on the British side, was a series of statements that described the bombardments as a literal demonstration of British strength and determination. At the same time, the French condemned British policy at Mers el-Kébir for its brutality against a neutral state and its alleged failure to engage in established patterns of conventional diplomacy. The British may not have had many military options available to them in July 1940. However, this weakness was certainly not apparent in the rhetoric that followed the bombardments. Justifications pressed home the inevitability of the operation. They framed the bombardments as a sign of unswerving British resolve and the country’s undiminished capacity to wage war against the Axis powers. At the same time, British rhetoric continued attempts to foster the support of metropolitan France by rhetorically exonerating the French population from the ‘Men of Vichy’.

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In the French spa town of Vichy, the new home of the French metropolitan government from 1 July 1940, Pétain would also turn to rhetoric in an attempt to discredit British actions at Mers el-Kébir. Pétain and Paul Baudouin’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs attempted to sway American and global opinion against the ‘British aggressions’. But it quickly became clear that the vast majority of the international press was more inclined to see the bombardments as a reasonable course of action. Following official statements, speeches and broadcasts, mass media outlets in both France and Britain largely echoed the official explanations offered by their respective leadership. The British press drew on an abundance of historic imagery to further justify the brutality of the operations. It connected past victories to the present conflict in order to suggest future success. On the French side, Mers el-Kébir was a pivotal event. It influenced how Franco-British relations were portrayed for the rest of the war. The bombardments came to signify the resurgence of Britain’s historic policy of territorial violation and blatant aggression against the French state. After the conclusion of the Franco-German armistice, the legitimacy of unoccupied France as an imperial nation depended on its ability to maintain the territorial integrity of both the metropole and its colonies. British and later Free French incursions and the rhetoric that accompanied them were challenges to French sovereignty, and more precisely the legitimacy of Pétain’s government. The Vichy government countered these challenges by claiming the rights of a neutral nation and by dismissing the Gaullist movement as both traitorous and essentially un-French. Timeline of Events In the days leading up to 3 July, Admiral Somerville finalised his operational plans. These detailed instructions tried to anticipate how Admiral Marcel-Bruno Gensoul, the commander of the Force de Raid moored at Mers el-Kébir, would respond to the British ultimatum. On 30 June, flag officers and senior commanding officers met onboard the British battle cruiser HMS Hood. Here, they agreed that if it became necessary, a bombardment at Mers el-Kébir would be carried out in three phases. First, Somerville would order rounds to be fired purely as a means to scare the French and indicate British resolve. If the French still refused British terms, limited gunfire and bombing would be initiated to prompt the evacuation of the ships. Last, torpedoes or other means would sink the ships. Similar destructive action at the neighbouring non-military port of Oran was, as we know, not considered permissible due to the likely

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high loss of civilian life.4 Operational orders dated 1 July formalised this three-stage approach. Stage II parts 1 and 2 were described as follows: (1) ‘Show that we are in earnest by offensive action without endangering French ships’. (2) ‘Destroy the French ships by our own actions’.5 This was a coherent plan created by British Admiralty commanders to disable vital units of the French fleet at Mers el-Kébir. It anticipated only limited casualties thanks to the two-stage warning system. At 10:45 a.m. on 3 July, Admiral Somerville noted in his diary that the French were furling their awnings, an act that could only be construed as readying for a fight. In response, the Admiralty suggested seeding the harbour with magnetic mines to prevent the fleet from escaping.6 Early that same morning, Somerville had received another message from the Admiralty. It stated that although no time limit would be imposed on the ultimatum, it was important that the proceedings were completed, whatever the outcome, before the sun went down that day.7 This stipulation had a direct impact on the negotiations. It imposed a highly restrictive time frame that did not leave Somerville with room to manoeuvre should Gensoul delay in answering the ultimatum. Somerville’s Vice Admiral Cedric Holland delivered the terms of the British ultimatum and the accompanying message to the French Admiralty between 11:00 a.m. and 11:15 a.m. on the morning of 3 July. Because Holland was fluent in French, he had been given the unsavoury task of delivering the ultimatum to Admiral Gensoul. However, Gensoul was offended that a ranking captain had brought the message rather than an admiral. He refused to see Holland, forcing him to wait in his boat for the French Admiralty barge to deliver a response.8 Gensoul’s refusal to cooperate was disappointing to Somerville and others in the British Admiralty. However, perhaps they should have been less surprised. As one of the only Protestants in the heavily Catholic French Navy, Somerville considered Gensoul to be relatively Anglophilic. But Gensoul had already declined once to colour outside the lines of French officialdom. On 24 June, British Admiral Dudley North had visited Gensoul in an attempt to take advantage of his personal sympathies and persuade him to continue the war alongside Britain. However, he had refused on the grounds that he was bound to obey the orders of the French government.9 4 5 6 7 8 9

Admiral Somerville’s Official Report, 26 July 1940, ADM 199/826, TNA. ‘Operation Orders for Operation “Catapult”’, 1 July 1940, SMVL 7/19, Churchill Archive Centre (henceforth CCAC). Admiral Somerville’s Official Report, 26 July 1940, ADM 199/826, TNA. Ibid. Ibid. Philippe Lasterle, ‘Could Admiral Gensoul Have Averted the Tragedy of Mers elKébir?’ The Journal of Military History 67, no. 3 (2003): 840.

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At 11:30 a.m., First Sea Lord Pound sent a message informing Force H that he was drafting a signal that would offer the French immediate demilitarisation in addition to the options stated in the ultimatum. However, Pound telephoned Somerville an hour later to inform him that the draft had not been approved. Instead, Somerville should inform the French fleet that if it prepared to leave the harbour he would open fire.10 Gensoul had, in the meantime, conveyed the British ultimatum to his superiors at the Admiralty, although he failed to mention the option to move the fleet to a port in the French West Indies or the United States.11 Too much weight should not be given to this omission for changing the course of events. Throughout the day, Gensoul clearly reiterated his refusal of the ultimatum. He also did not believe that the British would actually open fire on the fleet.12 Gensoul made no move to evacuate his ships against the possibility of attack, nor did he display any real intention to concede to any of the British requests. This inaction was a symptom of the belief on both sides that actual bombardment was highly unlikely. To the British, the most important outcome was the public display of Pétain’s government yielding to British strength and resolve. The decision not to offer demilitarisation after having delivered the original ultimatum stemmed from this mindset. War Cabinet minutes stated that to do so ‘would look like weakening’.13 Following the receipt of the British ultimatum, both admirals waited for his counterpart to yield. At 11:51 a.m. and again just after 12:09 p.m., Gensoul repeated his resolve to fight, rather than acquiesce to the British terms. Somerville prepared to open fire.14 However, Vice Admiral Holland suggested waiting and Somerville extended the ultimatum deadline.15 From this point onward, the decisions taken by Gensoul and Somerville illustrated the high levels of uncertainty on both sides. Decision-making was further constrained by the setting sun. Like Gensoul, Somerville believed his counterpart would ultimately yield. He was loath to open fire upon the French ships and interpreted French inaction as a sign of weakening. He extended the deadline for British action to 3:30 p.m.16 Gensoul eventually agreed to meet the British delegation aboard the Dunkerque at 2:15 p.m. The British Admiralty had informed Somerville on 2 July that the French had a procedure for demilitarising their ships, which could 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Admiral Somerville’s Official Report, 26 July 1940, ADM 199/826, TNA. Lasterle, ‘Admiral Gensoul’, 836. Robert and Isabelle Tombs, That Sweet Enemy: The French and the British from the Sun King to the Present (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2007), 565. W.M. (40) 192nd Conclusions, Minute 2, 3 July 1940, CAB 65/14/3, TNA. Admiral Somerville’s Official Report, 26 July 1940, ADM 199/826, TNA. Somerville’s Pocket Diary, 3 July 1940, SMVL 1/31, CCAC. Ibid.

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be completed in two hours. Somerville informed Holland that ‘should necessity arise’ he should discuss demilitarisation with the French and ascertain if the process would put the ships fully out of commission for 12 months.17 However, news of the impending arrival of French reinforcements from Toulon and Algiers heightened tensions in the negotiating environment. An Admiralty signal sent to Force H at 4:14 p.m. instructed Somerville to resolve ongoing operations quickly as ‘he may have French reinforcements to deal with’.18 Gensoul received a similar message from Admiral Le Luc, Chief of Darlan’s personal staff, at 5:18 p.m.19 As darkness encroached, both sides were under pressure to end the standoff. Negotiations drew to a close and Gensoul issued a final written statement reiterating his intention to respond to force with force.20 Somerville’s report of the final moments described the French ships as being in ‘an advanced state of readiness for sea … tugs were ready by the sterns of each battleship. Guns were trained fore and aft’.21 At 5:53 p.m., Somerville gave the order to open fire upon the French fleet and reported to the Admiralty that he was being heavily engaged at 6:00 p.m. A delayed signal arrived from the Admiralty at 6:26 p.m. after the bombardment was in progress, informing Force H that the French must comply with British terms, scuttle themselves, or be sunk by the British before dark.22 The fact that this signal arrived after the bombardment was already underway, suggests that although Somerville may have had reservations about firing upon the fleet, his decision to do so was not the result of a final direct order from either Churchill or the Admiralty. Rather, Somerville, in his position as the local commander of this operation, gave the order to fire in response to real-time pressure. The bombardment lasted for ten minutes. It left 1,297 dead and 351 wounded on the French side. The British suffered two light injuries.23 Factors such as poor and delayed communications, the threat of French reinforcements and approaching darkness clearly influenced the final outcome at Mers el-Kébir. Not knowing when and if French reinforcements were likely to arrive, Somerville was making decisions under immense time pressure. This was especially true in the final hours of negotiations.

17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Ibid. Ibid. Lasterle, ‘Admiral Gensoul’, 843. Arthur Marder, From the Dardanelles to Oran (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1974), 249. ‘Narrative of Third July’, First Sea Lord’s Records 1939–1940, ADM 205/6, TNA. Admiral Somerville’s Official Report, 26 July 1940, ADM 199/826, TNA. Somerville’s pocket diary listed 17.45 as the time at which he opened fire, SMVL 1/31, CCAC. Tombs, That Sweet Enemy, 565.

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Hesitations on both sides also contributed to the relative chaos of the final moments. Gensoul, to the very last, made no move to evacuate his ships. He still believed that his recent comrades would never follow through on their threats. Holland also doubted that force would be necessary. He wrote in his report of the operation, ‘My answer to ask for a final reply before fire was opened was based on my appreciation of the French character since I have often found that an initial flat refusal will gradually come round to an acquiescence’.24 Leadership on both sides misinterpreted the situation to the extent that they refused to believe that the other party would consent to the use of force. However, it was the British command to fire directly at the fleet without first giving the French the opportunity to evacuate that would in later years be held up as a callous and brutal display of violence. The broader context of the situation was also relevant. Britain was under threat of imminent invasion. Taking action to decisively neutralise the French fleet would free up British ships from shadowing their French counterparts and allow them to return to home waters to patrol against invading forces.25 Even if Somerville had reached an agreement on disarming the fleet, it could not have been carried out within six hours given the approaching darkness as well as the impending arrival of reinforcements. Seeing how Operation Catapult unfolded in real-time on 3 July makes it clear that both Somerville and Gensoul were making decisions in a highly uncertain environment. With France newly withdrawn from the war, it was still unclear how official sentiments and loyalties would align themselves. The British were, in all respects, very limited militarily. They were preparing for a defensive phase of the conflict, which would require the most efficient use of their naval resources. There was also a strong desire to dispel uncertainty and bolster morale within Britain while encouraging pro-British sentiment in America. In this sense, the willingness to take hostile action against the fleet was tremendously symbolic. Decisive action against the fleet was a strategic manoeuvre, but it was also a powerbuilding exercise. Rhetoric would play a critical role in fostering these images of British power. Revision: Redrafting Press Releases and Statements In his typically sarcastic style, Alexander Cadogan wrote on 3 July of his role in writing ‘a draft to French explaining why we were blowing their fleet out of the water’. [sic]26 The bombardments at Mers el-Kébir 24 25 26

Admiral Somerville’s Official Report, 26 July 1940, ADM 199/826, TNA. Martin Gilbert, Winston S. Churchill, Volume VI Finest Hour 1939–1941 (Hillsdale, Michigan: Hillsdale College Press, 1983), 630. Alexander Cadogan, The Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan 1938–1945, ed. David Dilks (London: Cassell, 1971), 309.

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launched a rhetorical battle in which Vichy and Britain each presented their own interpretation of events. Their respective arguments were reproduced and analysed throughout the mass media and were the subject of much public discussion. Furthermore, each press release or speech was written with one eye on American opinion. British diplomat Robert Vansittart was at the time suggesting a more robust programme of proBritish propaganda in the United States ‘to meet the Franco-German drive against us there’.27 We begin by picking up the trail of Britain’s initial draft press release. While operations were unfolding at Mers el-Kébir, officials in London were working hard to modify their public statements. As the instigators of Operation Catapult, British planners had the advantage of being able to anticipate events to a certain extent. Together, the War Cabinet and Admiralty finalised a series of initial print and radio statements. Churchill also reported on the operations in the Commons on 4 July. Together, these statements mobilised around two themes. First, they suggested that the operations to contain the French fleet were an inevitable outcome of the Franco-German armistice. Second, they argued that the bombardments did not constitute a rupture in Franco-British relations. British victory, which could only be secured by carrying out such determined policies, was the only way to liberate France. The first announcement concerning the operations against the French fleet was a radio address. First Lord of the Admiralty Alexander prepared and edited the text before delivering it on 4 July. Alexander maintained that Britain was forced to act because it could not in good faith allow the fate of the fleet to rest on the credibility of German promises. These claims allowed Alexander to frame the bombardments as unavoidable. At the same time, by blaming German untrustworthiness, he shifted criticism away from the wider French nation. His address described the operations as ‘… the steps we have been compelled to take …’28 He also praised Somerville and Force H for ‘… not shrinking when it became inevitable to take the action necessary in their duty towards their country and the cause of liberty’. Recall how early draft press releases used the passive voice to suggest that the British government was forced to take action against the French fleet. This construction re-emerged in Alexander’s statement when he claimed Britain had been driven to action by an invisible subject. This grammatical formulation was used in the same way to describe the moment that the British contingent opened fire. ‘Only when all the alternatives had been rejected did the Navy take the action which His Majesty’s Government had considered themselves 27 28

Vansittart to Cooper, 5 July 1940, VNST II 1/8, CCAC. Radio Broadcast, 4 July 1940, AVAR 13/4, CCAC.

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compelled to order in the last resort’.29 Alexander’s statement also changed references from the ‘Pétain’ government to the ‘Bordeaux’ government.30 Pétain remained a popular figure amongst the French public. British officials were instructed to avoid directly criticising the Hero of Verdun so as not to alienate French public opinion. In addition to the radio broadcast, the War Cabinet and the Admiralty prepared a press statement. It would be released through the Ministry of Information (MOI). It also emphasised the dishonesty of the German and Italian victors, the resulting necessity for British action, and the inevitability of the outcome given Gensoul’s misplaced allegiance to the new metropolitan government. The article painted a picture in which British policy in the present would secure Franco-British prosperity in the future. It cast Britain as the guardian of true French interests, both in a material and moral sense. ‘HMG … felt that they were compelled, not only in their own interests, but also in the hope of restoring the independence of France and the integrity of the French Empire, to take steps …’31 This and future references to the French Empire recognised how important overseas territories were to a nation’s legitimacy and power. And Mers el-Kébir opened a phase of the war in which empire was central to both France and Britain.32 The press release also undermined the validity of Pétain’s government. It proposed that altruism, rather than national self-interest, was driving British foreign policy. When it comes to policy-making, determining how, or even if, moral and ethical behaviour can exist in harmony with self-interest has never been an easy endeavour. E.H. Carr has described ‘the place of morality in international politics’ as ‘the most obscure and difficult problem in the whole range of international studies’.33 However, in the wake of Mers el-Kébir and in the years to come, the legitimacy of British policy was rooted in moral arguments. This kind of language had a central role in structuring the character of Britain’s wartime narrative. And it has continued to play a critical part in how the Second World War has been memorialised and remembered.34 It is important to recognise 29 30 31 32

33 34

Ibid. This was despite the fact that Pétain’s government moved from Bordeaux to Vichy on 1 July, after the armistice placed Bordeaux in the occupation zone. ‘Proposed Statement to the Press’, July 1940, PREM 3/179/4, TNA. Akhila Yechury and Emile Chabal, ‘Introduction’, in Britain and France in Two World Wars: Truth, Myth and Memory, eds. Robert Tombs and Emile Chabal (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 88. E. H. Carr, The Twenty Years’ Crisis, 1919–1939 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), 135. Michael Bess, Choices under Fire: Moral Dimensions of World War II (New York: Vintage Books, 2006), Chapter 13.

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the persuasiveness, or at the very least, the emotive power that these kinds of arguments could have, even if the underlying decision-making process was much more complex. British policy-makers were eager to drive support away from Pétain’s government. But they continued to protect the idea of Franco-British cooperation. To do this, the press release was edited to downplay any suggestion of overt Franco-British hostility. The original text depicting the Franco-German armistice stated that the French government ‘undertook by the terms of the Armistice to hand over their Fleet to the enemy’.35 The words ‘hand over’ were changed to ‘allow’, transferring agency from the French to the Germans.36 The following excerpt shows how aggressive words were replaced with more neutral options. Note in particular how the word ‘hostilities’ was replaced with ‘operations’. H.M.G. deeply regret that the French Admiral in command at Oran refused to accept any of the conditions proposed, with the inevitable result that hostilities broke out between British and action had to be taken against the French vessels in that locality. These hostilities (operations) are still proceeding.37

This excerpt proposed that Catapult, and the bombardments that resulted, were an ethical, if still tragic, course of action during a time of war. Knowing that the environment in which these operations were planned was highly complex, it is striking how British rhetoric ironed out any operational wrinkles and uncertainties. The tone of these discussions and the rhetoric they produced made it easy to forget that Somerville had planned to prompt the French ships to evacuate before firing at them directly. Moreover, in War Cabinet discussions, members decided not to offer compensation to the families of French personnel killed at Mers el-Kébir. It was thought that doing so could be ‘misinterpreted’ as an apology and acknowledgement of wrongdoing.38 Mers el-Kébir was to be a tragedy, but a justified one. While this draft was being edited, the War Cabinet met to determine when the statement should be released to the local press. They also talked about writing a second announcement for the American press.39 These preparations anticipated the impact that the operations would have at home and on a more global stage. In the days following the bombardment, Political Intelligence Reports compiled by the Foreign Office concluded that the general effect, ‘especially in the United States, has 35 36 37 38 39

‘Proposed Statement to the Press’, July 1940, PREM 3/179/4, TNA. Ibid. Ibid. War Cabinet Conclusions, 4 July 1940, CAB 65/8/5, TNA. Ibid.

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been to enhance British prestige’.40 British ambassador in Washington Lord Lothian also sent news that the American response had been positive. However, he warned that German and French sources would be anxious to portray the French as victims. British publicity, he suggested, should be prepared to counter French attempts to depict the operations as ‘treacherous’.41 Lord Alexander delivered a second radio broadcast, this time for an overseas audience. It spared no effort in emphasising the tragic necessity of the operations while hinting at the continuity of Franco-British comradeship. The following edited excerpt highlighted Britain’s lack of options when it came to the French fleet: ‘In British ports and at Alexandria we are thankful to have been able to (had to) taken under our control …’42 The substitution of ‘had to’ in place of ‘are thankful to’ and ‘been able to’ pressed home the absolute necessity of the operation and justified its tragic results. This word choice and construction made British action unavoidable while simultaneously highlighting its determination to successfully carry on the war. The same address also reinforced the moral superiority of the British, Imperial and American struggle: ‘… united as never before in defence of Christianity, of civilization and of the kindly, tolerant way of life which we have evolved through the centuries and which has developed with equal calm and fruitful benevolence among our sister nations the British Commonwealth and in America. Our cause is wholly righteous’.43 After the statement was released over the radio in mid-July, Alexander concluded that the American response had been generally positive. He described the American public as hopeful that the British public were as resolved in the upcoming battle as their leadership appeared to be.44 Churchill’s 4 July Commons address was the most exhaustive official response to appear in the aftermath of the attacks. It would be reproduced extensively in the press. The tone of this speech was similar to the press releases in some respects, but it offered a clearer delineation between Pétain’s government and the French nation as a whole. It was also more overt and grandiose in framing the bombardments as a promise of eventual British victory. Churchill shifted the focus away from the violence of the operations at Mers el-Kébir. He presented British policy towards the fleet not as a choice, but as a logical response to the French

40 41 42 43 44

Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 9 July 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA. Lord Lothian to Foreign Office, 9 July 1940, FO 371/24321, TNA. Broadcast, ‘The Work of the Royal Navy Today’, 13–14 July 1940, AVAR 13/5, CCAC. Ibid. Ibid.

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refusal to guarantee its security, away from Axis hands. Before analysing the details of Churchill’s address, it is important to note that Lord Halifax delivered an identical speech that day in the House of Lords explaining and justifying what had taken place at Mers el-Kébir. As Prime Minister, Churchill’s speech was given more attention than Halifax’s. The relative value attached to Churchill’s words shaped how Catapult was conceptualised at the time and how it is remembered today. The persuasiveness of rhetoric can shift according to who is doing the talking, as in the case of these identical speeches delivered by Churchill and Halifax in 1940. But time can also appreciate or erode rhetoric’s perceived value. In this case, victory in 1945 validated much of Churchill’s rhetoric and obscured the more complex and uncertain environment in which it was initially delivered. Early in the speech, Churchill linked the idea of British victory to French liberation: ‘But the least that could be expected was that the French Government, in abandoning the conflict and leaving its whole weight to fall upon Great Britain and the British Empire, would have been careful not to inflict needless injury upon their faithful comrade, in whose final victory the sole chance of French freedom lay and lies’.45 The choice of language in this excerpt, compared to that of the draft press releases, was much more aggressive. Emotive verbs such as ‘abandoning’ and ‘inflict’ suggested malicious intent on the part of the French government. On the other hand, Britain retained its role as France’s protector, and eventual liberator. After denigrating the new government, Churchill severed the will of the French people from the defeatist origins of the Bordeaux/Vichy government. ‘Thus I must place on record that what might have been a mortal injury was done to us by the Bordeaux Government with full knowledge of the consequences and of our dangers, and after rejecting all our appeals at the moment when they were abandoning the Alliance, and breaking the engagements which fortified it’.46 Describing the French fleet as a ‘mortal injury’ to the British war effort left no doubt as to the validity of the British actions that followed. This sentence also made it clear that the ‘Bordeaux Government’ could not claim the popular support that would have made it a representative government. The following paragraphs built on this notion of illegitimacy. Churchill described the final weeks of June and the Franco-German armistice negotiations: ‘There was another example of this callous and

45 46

Hansard HC Deb vol. 362 col. 1043 (4 July 1940) http://hansard.millbanksystems .com/commons/1940/jul/04/french-fleet. Ibid.

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perhaps even malevolent treatment which we received, not indeed from the French nation, who have never been and apparently never are to be consulted upon these transactions, but from the Bordeaux Government’.47 This claim was unsubstantiated and greatly exaggerated. In the chaos of the exodus, most refugees and even French soldiers met Pétain’s call for an armistice with relief.48 Pétain’s government did not experience serious dissent, and remained relatively popular until at least the close of 1941.49 What Churchill’s speech and the two draft press releases tried to do was maintain the illusion that the French nation remained tied to the Allied war effort. They did this by distancing the French public from the metropolitan government. They implied that the French people favoured Britain and de Gaulle’s Free French movement. France’s new government, referred to as the ‘Bordeaux Government’ and later the ‘Vichy Government’, was described not only as unrepresentative of the French people but also as an illegitimate governing body. This policy was in place throughout the war. On 8 July, Churchill’s intelligence advisor Desmond Morton asked the MOI to instruct the BBC and press agencies to refer to the metropolitan government as the ‘Vichy Government’ or ‘Pétain Government’ but not ‘France’ or the ‘French Government’.50 It is important to recognise this rhetorical continuity in the idea of Franco-British cooperation. Assessments of the Franco-British relationship, especially after Mers el-Kébir, have tended to conclude that Britain rapidly became ‘a former ally, now more or less at war with France’.51 Michael Dockrill has described Britain’s policy after the French defeat as one of ‘neo-isolationism’ in which France was viewed with both ‘contempt and hostility’.52 David Reynolds views 1940 as the watershed moment that not only turned Britain decisively away from the FrancoBritish alliance but also from continental commitments more broadly.53

47 48 49 50 51

52 53

Ibid. Hannah Diamond, Fleeing Hitler (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 113, 116. Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order 1940–1944 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972), 38. ‘Vansittart Committee’, 8 July 1940, GB165-0269, Middle East Centre Archives (henceforth MECA). Nicholas Atkin, The Forgotten French: Exiles in the British Isles 1940–44 (Manchester, 2003), 254. Simon Berthon argues similarly that in the wake of the Franco-German armistice, ‘two Frances had emerged’. Simon Berthon, Allies at War (London: Thistle Publishing, 2013), 32. Michael Dockrill, British Establishment Perspectives on France, 1936–40 (Basingstoke, 1999), 157. David Reynolds, ‘1940: Fulcrum of the Twentieth Century?’, International Affairs, 66, no. 2 (April 1990), 325, 333.

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But these public squabbles were only one side of a much more nuanced policy. By refusing to recognise Pétain’s government as a legitimate representative of French interests, British rhetoric kept the notion of alliance alive. And it kept France’s seat at the victor’s table warm. Churchill closed his address by stressing that the War Cabinet had embarked upon Catapult with a heavy heart but a unanimous sense of purpose.54 He suggested that the bombardment, however tragic, was an eventuality for which the Cabinet and Admiralty were well prepared. Unsurprisingly, he did not explain why the ships had not been evacuated prior to the bombardment. Portraying the outcome at Mers el-Kébir as an ‘unfortunate necessity’ normalised the deaths of the French sailors as causalities of war. Churchill made a strong case that accomplished three things: it validated British actions, defended the French citizenry and castigated the Bordeaux government for betraying its British allies and the French nation. In concluding, he employed a classic rhetorical technique. He offered his audience the opportunity to digest the facts for themselves and reach a logical conclusion. ‘I leave the judgment of our action, with confidence, to Parliament. I leave it to the nation, and I leave it to the United States. I leave it to the world and to history’.55 Churchill understood that rhetoric was persuasive. More importantly, he understood that it needed to strike a delicate balance between presenting an argument for consideration and telling the public what to think. Moreover, we know that the War Cabinet was confident that the British public would welcome a strong policy towards the French fleet. This knowledge makes Churchill’s statement, which boldly called for the world to judge British actions at Mers el-Kébir appear far less daring. Churchill’s Commons speech was received with feelings of relief and approval from both sides of the House. Members cheered for two full minutes. Even Chargé d’Affaires Roger Cambon acknowledged its undeniably warm reception. Writing to Foreign Minister Baudouin, he described political and popular attitudes in Britain as determined. He saw a refusal to compromise on issues that were perceived to affect the prosecution of the war.56 Cadogan wrote in his diary that day that while the results of Catapult were not ideal, ‘Winston was able to make good enough showing in House and had a good reception’.57 [sic] John Colville echoed this

54 55 56 57

Winston Churchill, ed., Into Battle: Speeches by the Right Hon. Winston S. Churchill, PC, MP (London: Cassell, 1941), 240–241. Hansard HC Deb vol 362 col. 1049 (4 July 1940) http://hansard.millbanksystems .com/commons/1940/jul/04/french-fleet. Cambon to Buadouin, 5 July 1940, 10GMII/336, MAE. Cadogan, Diaries, 310.

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sentiment, adding that global reactions were supportive of the bombardments. ‘There is a strange admiration for force everywhere today’, he mused.58 In a letter to his wife on 4 July, Somerville wrote that he feared that the images of British naval forces slaughtering their former allies would ‘rouse the world against us’.59 He was wrong. Immediately after the bombardments, there was a strong consensus, not only within Britain but also in the United States, that this was the right policy. Churchill’s private secretary Eric Seal wrote to his wife regarding the address, ‘The speech was good, but not better than the others … I think that there had been a great deal more anxiety than we realized about the French Fleet, and there was a general relief that such vigorous action had been taken’.60 Free French leader General Charles de Gaulle had no role in deciding British policy towards the French fleet. But it was important that he also responded publicly to the operations. Spears reported to Churchill that de Gaulle’s reaction to the bombardments was ‘on the whole better than I should have expected’.61 De Gaulle’s radio address on 8 July echoed the British official line, arguing that Axis forces would have used the French fleet against Britain, as well as the French Empire.62 He called on Frenchmen to see the tragedy as one more step towards victory, or from the ‘point of view of victory and deliverance’.63 After the war was over, de Gaulle wrote in his memoirs of his ‘pain and anger’ over Mers el-Kébir and his particular dislike for the way the British appeared to ‘glory in’ the operations.64 However, he would also admit privately that he understood why the British had carried out the bombardments.65 His willingness in 1940, however grudging, to publicly support the efficacy of the bombardments showed just how little room de Gaulle had to act unilaterally. After all, de Gaulle was still a month away from concluding the 7 August memorandum of agreement, which would establish the juridical and financial basis of the Free French movement.66 De Gaulle’s

58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66

John Colville, Diaries, 4–5 July 1940, CLVL 1.3, CCAC. Somerville to his wife, 4 July 1940 in The Somerville Papers, ed. Michael Simpson (Aldershot: Scholar Press, 1995), 108. Gilbert, Finest Hour, 642–643. Spears to Churchill, July 1940, PREM 3/276, TNA. ‘Allocution de Géneral de Gaulle, Daventry en Français’, 8 July 1940, 9GMII/295, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (henceforth MAE). Ibid. Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs of Charles de Gaulle, vol. 1, The Call to Honour, 1940–1942, trans Jonathan Griffin (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1955), 92. Julian Jackson, A Certain Idea of France: The Life of Charles de Gaulle (London: Penguin, 2018), 140. Jay Winter and Antoine Prost, René Cassin and Human Rights: From the Great War to the Universal Declaration (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 111.

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rhetorical alignment with British policy was a way to assert the power and legitimacy of his movement. By sanctioning such high-level policies, de Gaulle also supported the idea of a continuing Franco-British alliance. In this construction, his movement carried the torch of authentic French interests. At this early date, publicly challenging British policy towards France and the French Empire would only reveal the weakness of de Gaulle’s movement, and its reliance on British resources. Later, we will see how this need to preserve the outward appearance of AngloFree French cooperation constrained both British and Free French policy-making. In Vichy, officials were working hard to respond to the bombardments as news arrived from Mers el-Kébir and Alexandria. Like his British counterparts at the Foreign Office, Baudouin was also trying to win support for the metropolitan government within American circles. Pétain even penned a three-page letter to Roosevelt urging him to see the injustice of British policy.67 Baudouin issued French communiqués to the US State Department with the expectation that the information would be passed on to the American press. These communications presented a straightforward case of British aggression, describing the ultimatum, the use of magnetic mines to seal off the port and the final command to open fire.68 High commissioner for propaganda, Jean Prouvost reported to the American press that Churchill had undertaken an act of aggression ‘unprecedented in history’.69 Baudouin also prepared talking points, which he sent to French embassies and consulates around the world. He hoped to validate the position of the Vichy government by depicting the bombardments as an unwarranted act of violence. Writing to the diplomatic mission in Berne, Switzerland, Baudouin described the attacks as ‘brutal and inexcusable’.70 He instructed diplomatic staff to stress to the public and government officials in their respective postings the terrible nature of the British attack. They should also try to discredit British justifications for the bombardments by focussing on Churchill’s tendency to ‘alter the truth’ of what had happened.71 Despite Baudouin’s best efforts, however, the results were disappointing. Only international responses from Spain, Bulgaria and Romania appeared to be sympathetic to the

67 68 69 70 71

Pétain to Roosevelt, 4 July 1940, 10GMII/336, MAE. ‘Agressions Anglaises, Mers el Kébir, Réactions étrangères’, 3 July 1940, 10GMII/336, MAE. Ibid. Baudouin to Berne, 5 July 1940, 3P102, Dossier 3, Service Historique de la Defense (henceforth SHD). Baudouin to French Diplomatic Posts, 6 July 1940, 10GMII/336, MAE.

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French plight.72 Within metropolitan France, guarding the sovereignty of the unoccupied zone, the fleet, and the empire was of primary importance to France’s survival as a nation state. Vichy rhetoric that portrayed British operations as violations against the rights of a sovereign and neutral country was first used in response to the bombardments at Mers el-Kébir. But this tactic would be repeated after fresh offences in Dakar, North Africa and the Levant. The desire to shore up or salvage French sovereignty would also motivate collaborationist policies initiated by Pétain and later expanded upon by Pierre Laval when he returned to power in April 1942.73 Moreover, the French decision to break off formal diplomatic relations following the bombardments was, not unlike the British case, a way to underline the symbolic importance of a strong response. Roger Cambon explained his resignation and departure from London in a note to Churchill and Halifax. In it, he described hearing Churchill’s Commons speech and knowing that the events that had taken place over the last few days, and the British descriptions of them made it impossible to continue in his current position.74 The strategic context that developed after the French capitulation was both limiting and highly complex. Britain needed to demonstrate its resolve to continue the war yet was in no position to place boots on the ground in an offensive assault against the Germans. Action against the French fleet was one of the few options available at the time. It was mobilised to serve a highly symbolic purpose in addition to fulfilling strategic considerations. The metropolitan French government was likewise in a tenuous situation. It had to respond to the attacks in a manner that strengthened its position as a non-belligerent, avoided German reprisals in the unoccupied zone and increased its own legitimacy at home and abroad. The press provided a platform to air and refine these debates. Going to Press: French and British Responses After officials in Britain and metropolitan France released their statements in print and via radio broadcasts, they were reproduced and analysed throughout the press. The bombardments at Mers el-Kébir became a benchmark that was used to interpret and give meaning to future operations. Several themes emerged on both sides of the Channel, which

72 73 74

Incoming telegrams to Baudouin from diplomatic posts, 9 July 1940, 10GMII/336, MAE. Mark Mazower, Dark Continent: Europe’s Twentieth Century (London: Penguin, 1999), 152. Cambon to Baudouin, 5 July 1940, 10GMII/291, MAE.

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became central to French and British wartime narratives throughout the conflict. On the British side, press and popular opinion approved of military operations that they viewed as moving in the direction of ultimate victory. On its face, this statement seems unremarkable. But we must consider this response in the context of British and Free French operations against French imperial territory. Violent clashes, even with a presumptive or former ally, were rapidly justified within the broader context of the war. The British press vindicated and praised the action taken towards the French fleet. The notion of inevitably played a leading role in official explanations of the operations. This sentiment was even more evident within the British press. The bombardments were interpreted using a combination of nostalgic historic imagery and emotive language. In this arena, Churchill was arrayed alongside other historic British heroes. The Vichy French press took a line that was very similar to Baudouin’s press releases. It sought to reassert France’s status as a sovereign nation with a great empire. British ‘aggressions’ were immoral because they contravened the rights of a neutral nation during a time of war. At the same time, the press tried to make sense of France’s position by looking back to how the war had been fought since 1939. France was portrayed as a victim. Fighting under the long shadow of Britain’s historic perfidy, France, it was argued, had shouldered the entire burden of the war. On 5 July, Cambon summarised the response to Mers el-Kébir across the British press: ‘The English press is unanimous in approving the decision of the British government to seize the French fleet by force’.75 The Guardian alone published a total of twelve articles concerning the fleet in its 5 July edition, eclipsing all other topics. Within Britain, the bulk of the press commentary on Catapult appeared between 5 and 6 July. Many articles used Churchill’s Commons address as a starting point to describe and analyse the operations. This approach was unsurprising given the limited availability of first-hand information. The press, however, did more than reiterate the official response. Many stories expanded upon early press releases and broadcasts. They created an emotional narrative in which historic British victories and long-gone statesmen became guarantors of a future victory. An article in The Guardian described the reception to Churchill’s speech in the House of Commons. ‘One liked to think there was a cloud of unseen witnesses, not strangers to Westminster either, nor untried in ordeals of England wishing the Commons’ House well in this moment of destiny – Pym and Hampden, Walpole and Chatham, Fox, Burke, Pitt, Wellington and Gladstone. For of what

75

Cambon to Baudouin, 5 July 1940, 10GMII/336, MAE.

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was Mr Churchill speaking – “The eve of battle for our native land”’.76 This article did more than vindicate Churchill’s actions. It implied that victory itself was simply a matter of time and that Mers el-Kébir was the first step towards this great ‘destiny’. The article went on, ‘… the cheers were loud and sustained, and one particularly noticed Mr Chamberlain foremost in the demonstration waving his order papers’.77 This imagery captured the symbolic passing of power to Churchill. Although he had held the Premiership since May, Churchill had yet to receive the full approval of the House and the British citizenry. Yet, less than two weeks after the conclusion of the Franco-German armistice, The Observer was already making room for Churchill in the annals of British history. ‘He took his place with the greatest of our historic men. He ranked with Cromwell and Chatham’.78 The Times, which followed the government line most closely, also had high praise for Churchill. The highest commendations were linked to his speech and its thunderous reception. ‘It is not often that the House is so deeply moved. The Prime Minister’s speech matched a theme which had the qualities of a Greek tragedy, and it will live as one of the most memorable in the history of Parliament’.79 Another article described the reaction to his address. ‘… and the whole House rose to cheer loudly and with a note of fierce resolve his declaration that the war should be prosecuted with the utmost vigour until the righteous purposes for which we entered upon it had been in all respects fulfilled’.80 In all of these descriptions, Churchill was no longer just a politician who had backed a popular policy. He had been vaulted to historic greatness. And he became the embodiment of British resolve in the ongoing conflict. This was despite the fact that the battle was just beginning. The press also praised Churchill’s distinction between the French population and their leadership. The Guardian’s former Paris correspondent criticised Admiral Gensoul as a tepid character who had abandoned his sense of honour and the Franco-British alliance. From what I know of Admiral Gensoul, he must have been completely under the thumb of his Bordeaux masters. He was reactionary in his political views and was regarded in naval quarters as unimaginative, unenterprising and

76 77 78 79 80

Our Political Correspondent, ‘Commons Scene: Prime Minister’s Moving Speech’, The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 5. Ibid. J.L.G., ‘The French Fleet: The Soul of Tragedy’, Observer, 7 July 1940, 6. Parliamentary Correspondent, ‘Commons Emotion; Whole-Hearted Approval of Decision’, The Times, 5 July 1940, 4. ‘Peace “Whispers” Repudiated; Prime Minister’s Ovation’, The Times, 5 July 1940, 4.

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scarcely intelligent. It was this ‘dull dog’ … who gave the ghastly order to his men to go and fight the British.81

The article described the ‘abyss which the battle of Oran has revealed between the Bordeaux Government and the common people of France …’82 A photograph of Gensoul, which was published in The Times was captioned, ‘Admiral Gensoul in command of the French Fleet at Oran. He refused to adopt any of the honourable alternatives offered by the British Government’.83 Editorial content adopted a similar tone. J. Nicholson Balmer wrote, ‘Sir, - No reasonable person questions the wisdom of the decision of the Government of Britain in the grim choice set before it at Oran and we welcome the distinction drawn between the French nation and its Fascist Government’.84 These articles also invoked images of the past, this time to argue that French honour remained tied to the Allied war effort. Trying to pin down an authentic France and to define what it meant to be honourable, however, was difficult. What resulted was often a confusing mix of characteristics borrowed from France’s long history of revolution. ‘It is difficult to believe that the French people, with all of their proud history behind them, can be content to become a vassal state, lending their ancient prestige to the very forces that Revolutionary France and Catholic France have combined in denouncing as a new barbarism’.85 Here, history was used to provoke a kind of nostalgia or sense of pride for the past. But this practice came with its own challenges. British references to history, whether to encourage French resistance or to promise British victory, had to be skirt around France and Britain’s own less than harmonious past. The Times cited the 1807 British seizure of the Portuguese and Danish fleets to justify its operations at Mers el-Kébir. ‘From the supreme crises of our history we have always emerged with spirit purged and ennobled’.86 This was a defensive policy that was originally taken to protect Britain from invasion by Napoleonic forces. As we will see later, Vichy rhetoric would use France and Britain’s historic rivalry to criticise British and Free French incursions into its colonial empire. The congratulatory tone around operation Catapult spoke to a wide section of the British public, which was demanding that its leadership 81 82 83 84 85 86

Former Paris Correspondent, ‘Cost of Bordeaux Cabinet’s Illusions: What Was Admiral Darlan’s Part?’ The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 2. Ibid. Photo of Gensoul, The Times, 5 July 1940, 6. J. Nicholson Balmer, Letter to the Editor, ‘The French Fleet’, The Guardian, 9 July 1940, 2. ‘Britain and France’, The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 4. ‘A Tragic Necessity’, The Times, 6 July 1940, 5.

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take decisive action in prosecuting the war. Mass Observation (MO) research carried out on 5 July in the London districts of Chalk Farm, Limehouse, and Hampstead found support for the bombardments. Any animosity was directed at the French leadership rather than the French people. One fifty-year-old female commented, ‘I think it’s a damn good thing. Don’t you?’87 While a few respondents displayed open hostility towards the French and even understanding for the Germans, these responses were rare. They were likely to be motivated by long-held individual beliefs, rather than being formulated in direct response to Mers elKébir. However, the way that the press elevated Churchill did not always reflect wider opinion. MO interviews tracking the public reaction to Britain’s policy towards the French fleet included only one direct reference to Churchill’s apparently superior leadership.88 The success of actual operations themselves appeared to be more important than the man or men behind them. The discrepancy between the exorbitant praise for Churchill in the press and the more restrained response found by MO analysts is an interesting point that could be expanded upon after further research. What is clear is that Somerville’s decision to open fire on the fleet at Mers el-Kébir was a popular one. Speculations on the possibility of open conflict with France were largely absent from the broadsheet press. This concern, however, did emerge in individual responses to the operations. It was also raised in the tabloid press. After reading The Evening Standard, a thirty-five-year-old woman from North London worried that, ‘Petain may declare war on England’.89 Other respondents expressed a similar concern. However, broadsheet publications like The Times and The Guardian did not speculate upon this possibility. They focused instead on the tragic inevitability of the bombardments. The Times confirmed the ‘tragic necessity’ of events at Mers el-Kébir by showing how united the Commons was in supporting the action.90 In The Guardian, an article entitled ‘No Alternative’ discussed the positive reaction of the Commons to Churchill’s speech. ‘Heartrending it was, but let there be no mistake about it: the House to a man and with swelling cheers approved the cruel necessity. There was no alternative’.91 The message was clear. The bombardments were unavoidable if Britain was going to be able to prosecute the war 87 88 89 90 91

The French Navy, 5 July 1940, SxMOA1/2/25/2/G/1, Mass Observation Archives (henceforth MOA). Ibid. Ibid. ‘Commons Emotion, Whole-Hearted Approval’, The Times, 5 July 1940, 5. Our Political Correspondent, ‘Commons Scene: Prime Minister’s Moving Speech’, The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 5.

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successfully. ‘The need for silence about the French fleet in the past fortnight will now be apparent to everyone. The most strenuous efforts have been made by the Government to avoid the painful, but ultimately inevitable use of force against a recent ally …’92 The press only allocated a few lines to discussing the operations that had been undertaken to secure French ships in British ports and at Alexandria. Some of this silence can be attributed to the fact that negotiations at Alexandria were still ongoing. News that tentative agreements had been reached to demobilise ships at Alexandria was not reported until 8 July.93 But we should also bear in mind that the press used the bombardments at Mers el-Kébir to help shape a wider strategic narrative about Britain’s role in the war effort. In this context, nothing could diminish or question Britain’s steadfast trajectory towards victory. The non-violence that had accompanied other meetings with the French fleet, rather than being celebrated, was used to justify the violence that had occurred at Mers el-Kébir. The ease with which Britain had taken charge of French ships in British ports became evidence of how effortlessly the Germans could have done the same.94 By the same token, facts such as the death toll of French naval personnel were conspicuously absent from the press. Showing that British policy towards the French fleet was also supported by a wider global audience was another way to legitimise it. One article noted, ‘It is universally agreed that Britain’s action was made unavoidable. Britain, it is recognized fully, was not in a position to incur further dangers to the cause which is also that of France’.95 Given earlier discussions in the War Cabinet, it will come as no surprise that press agencies were especially keen to demonstrate American approval of the operations. This tendency was also symptomatic of the very public expectation that American intervention would be forthcoming. The Guardian ran an article containing statements from several American senators and newspapers, all of which applauded the tenacity of British action towards the fleet. The article commenced by saying, ‘Britain was completely justified in attacking the French fleet at Oran. This is the general feeling in naval quarters in Washington’.96 Between 5 and 6 July, four further articles reiterated American opinion towards the actions 92 93 94 95 96

Naval Correspondent, ‘Anxious Days at the Admiralty: Future of the French Units’, The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 5. ‘Gibraltar Raid: Made by French Planes; Vichy Statement; Warships Demobilised at Alexandria?’ The Guardian, 8 July 1940, 5. ‘British Action at Oran’, The Times, 5 July 1940, 4. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘France and British Seizure of Ships’, The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 2. ‘Britain Right: Washington View of Oran Battle’, The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 2.

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against the French fleet. They argued that American officials and public support was rallying around the British cause. ‘Mr Churchill’s speech today in the House of Commons was fully reported on the American wireless and has created a profound impression here. There is no doubt that the people of the United States wholly understand and sympathise with the necessities which compelled Great Britain to attack the fleet of her late Ally’.97 Quotations from The New York Times, The New York Herald Tribune and The Baltimore Sun reinforced this idea. ‘American sympathy is overwhelmingly with Great Britain in her action against the French Fleet’.98 British policy-makers recognised the symbolic importance of taking decisive action to neutralise the threat of the French fleet. So too Pétain’s government understood the significance of the fleet as a symbol of French sovereignty. The French press also rallied around this idea. Ironically, on 3 July as Admiral Somerville was squaring off against Admiral Gensoul, Le Temps published a celebratory story entitled ‘The French Navy’. The article reflected on the 1921 naval conference in Washington. After this event, the French navy had been granted greater recognition in the French press and amongst the public. It was praised for its strategically important role as an oceanic naval force and a guardian of the French Empire. French naval policy was, ‘in spite of political fluctuations and unceasing changes of government … worthy of a great country and its global empire’.99 This article, published only days before the public rupture of Franco-British diplomatic relations, did not portray the fleet as solely a military asset. It was an essential part of the French nation and its empire. The fleet, moreover, was depicted as a symbol of stability and continuity within France’s often tumultuous political scene. Now, its retention by Pétain’s government made the fleet more important than ever. After the bombardments, it was not surprising that the French press unanimously described the violence at Mers el-Kébir as unjustifiably aggressive. The French position was depicted as honourable while British actions were painted as dishonest and unsportsmanlike. These arguments asserted the right of the new French government to be treated as a genuinely neutral nation. The same themes would be refined and expanded upon as the war continued. They would re-emerge after fresh instances of British ‘aggression’ in the French colonial empire. But in the immediate aftermath of the bombardments, the French press response 97 98 99

‘American Approval’, The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 5. ‘American Views on Attack on French Fleet: Overwhelming Support for Britain’, The Guardian, 6 July 1940, 9. ‘La Marine Française’, Le Temps, 3 July 1940, 1.

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was relatively concise, but no less cutting, in its tone and overall message. Compared to the extensive response offered by the British press, the French press was still limited in its ability to print regular editions. It was also hampered by paper shortages and the broader social turmoil that had accompanied the eight to twelve million refugees fleeing Southward from Belgium and France.100 Many papers simply reprinted official statements verbatim, and it was not uncommon to see the same story replicated across different papers. The theme that was most prevalent in the French press was condemnation for the British ‘aggressions’ at Mers el-Kébir. The Vichy government’s official communiqué, which was broadcast on the evening of 4 July, appeared in print the following day. Both the official commentary and material written by press correspondents unreservedly condemned the attacks. The articles depicted Force H and the British government more broadly as ‘the aggressors’. The rhetoric described the bombardments at Mers el-Kébir as ‘the aggression, the crime, the attack and the hostilities’. A number of articles stressed that the attacks had been planned in secret and that this ‘ambush’ contravened notions of honourable behaviour.101 Stories published in Le Temps between 5 and 6 July condemned British policy as ‘l’agression odieuse et inconcevable’.102 An official communiqué printed by L’Echo d’Alger undermined the morality and the legality of British actions. It described Somerville’s order to fire on the French fleet as ‘le crime que son gouvernement lui avait ordonné’.103 These words redefined the Franco-British relationship. They removed France from the conflict, which also placed British actions outside the boundaries of acceptable warfare. This had the effect of making the bombardments appear at least petty and at worst immoral. The French, both as a government and a nation, on the other hand, were portrayed as victims of British violence. Worse, Britain had acted despite numerous French guarantees that all precautions had been taken to make certain that the fleet would be protected against German designs. After Churchill’s Commons statement, Baudouin published a tell-all piece, in which he examined the state of Franco-British relations since the outbreak of war in 1939. He argued that since 1940, France had put in all the effort to mobilise forces for the upcoming battle. Meanwhile, the 100 101

102 103

Mazower, Dark Continent, 188. ‘Rupture des Relations Diplomatiques entre la France et l’Angleterre’, Le Temps, 5 July 1940, 2. ‘Précisions Officielles sur le Guet-Apens de Mers el-Kébir’, L’Echo d’Alger, 5 July 1940, 1. ‘L’Agression de la Flotte Britannique contre la Flotte Française de Mers-el-Kébir’, Le Temps, 6 July 1940, 1. ‘Précisions Officielles’, L’Echo d’Alger, 1.

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British had hoarded men and materials to protect themselves. Because of this, the French people alone had borne the suffering that should have been the common cause of ‘two people’.104 This line of reasoning was not altogether inaccurate. Martin Alexander has argued that throughout the phoney war Whitehall remained ‘obsessed with a vision of the onset of war that came straight from H. G. Wells. … the shape of things to come admitted only the flattening of industries and cities – and British ones at that’.105 These fears, which focussed on the spectre of an air war in Britain, were coupled with widespread overconfidence within the service units. British military leadership tended to view the French military establishment as unbeatable.106 Still, the French narrative of victimhood that emerged after the events at Mers el-Kébir was important. It offered up a new interpretation of the interwar period. And it created a framework in which the Franco-British relationship would be assessed through the lens of historic animosity (both recent and long-past) rather than cooperation. These explanations, both of the French defeat and Britain’s role in allowing this defeat to happen, shaped the foundation upon which metropolitan France was supposed to rebuild itself. They situated metropolitan France as a sovereign nation with a legal government – not an occupied state.107 Roundly condemning British ‘aggressions’ was also a way to demonstrate to the armistice commission Vichy’s integrity and willingness to abide by the rules laid out in the agreement. In light of what had happened at Mers el-Kébir, the press reported on 6 July that Pétain had requested greater leverage to use air and naval forces to protect French territory.108 French responses to Operation Catapult also defined French honour in a very different way from what was being proposed by Churchill and de Gaulle. The armistice was portrayed as demanding but honourable. One article stressed that in the wake of the armistice, France had made

104

105

106 107

108

‘Les Rapports Franco-Britanniques depuis le Début des Hostilités: Exposé de M. Baudouin’, Le Temps, 6 July 1940, 1. ‘M. Baudouin Fait l’Exposé des Relations Franco-Anglaises depuis le Début des Hostilités’, L’Echo d’Alger, 7 July 1940, 1. Martin S. Alexander, ‘“Fighting to the Last Frenchman”? Reflections on the BEF Deployment to France and the Strains in the Franco-British Alliance’, in The French Defeat of 1940; Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt (Providence, RI: Berghahn Books, 1998), 300. Ibid., 315. Brett Bowles reached a similar conclusion in his analyses of Vichy’s film propaganda. He argues that before 1942, the Vichy government tried to use propaganda to create its own narrative of events, emphasising its sovereignty. Brett C. Bowles, ‘“La Tragédie de Mers-el-Kébir” and the Politics of Filmed News in France, 1940–1944’, The Journal of Modern History 76, no. 2 (2004): 357. ‘Dernières Nouvelles’, Le Temps, 6 July 1940, 2.

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every moral and material guarantee that it would retain full control of its fleet. In light of these promises, France could only maintain its honour by not giving in to British demands, and by meeting ‘la force par la force’.109 Likewise, the actions taken by Gensoul in refusing to accept the ultimatum were ‘heroic’ and taken in defence of French honour.110 The notion of French honour was also closely linked to French sovereignty. In the statement that Prouvost wrote for the American press, he argued that the French response at Mers el-Kébir was a fight ‘pour l’honneur de ses drapeaux’.111 Three months later, Vichy propaganda would return to these same themes. La Tragédie de Mers-el-Kébir, a nine-minute propaganda film that used live footage from the bombardments explained the event to its viewers, ‘… an English squadron arrives to submit to Admiral Gensoul a set of conditions that are unacceptable for reasons of honour’.112 For Pétain’s government, just as for Churchill’s, the fleet was more than a strategic resource. It was a symbol of power. And for the Vichy government, it was a symbol of its legitimacy and its sovereignty. ‘La flotte devait rester français ou périr’.113 The responses to Mers el-Kébir that were presented in official statements and reiterated throughout the press distanced the metropole and the empire from the ongoing war. They did so by constantly restating how aggressive, unjustifiable, unexpected and dishonourable British actions were. These same themes will re-emerge time and time again as British and Free French forces clash with Vichy troops throughout the empire. After Mers el-Kébir, Vichy’s statements did not mention de Gaulle’s rival forces. Indeed, calling attention to his presence would only complicate Vichy’s claims as the sole representative of French interests. Similarly, because so much of the international press was sympathetic to the British cause, Baudouin was unable to assert, as Churchill had done, that he had received any significant support outside of the metropole. By 9 July, discussions of the bombardments were fading from the press. A final account from New York described the American reaction as one of ‘painful surprise’ but admitted that the press was not condemning British actions.114 That same day, in the Vichy Casino, the parliament voted 624 votes to 4 in favour of revising the French constitution. The following day a 109 110 111 112 113 114

‘Précisions Officielles’, L’Echo d’Alger, 1. ‘L’Agression Britannique de Mers el-Kébir’, Le Temps, 7 July 1940, 1. ‘Déclaration de M. Jean Prouvost à la Presse Américaine’, Le Temps, 5 July 1940, 1. Bowles, ‘La Tragédie de Mers-el-Kébir’, 361. ‘L’Agression de la Flotte Britannique’, Le Temps, 1. ‘Après l’Agression de Mers el-Kébir’, Le Temps, 9 July 1940, 1. ‘L’Affaire de Mers elKébir Provoque en Amérique une Douloureuse Surprise’, L’Echo d’Alger, 9 July 1940, 1.

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second vote gave Pétain the authority to revise the constitution. On 11 July, Pétain issued a series of Acts, which abolished the office of President of the Republic, adjourned parliament indefinitely and gave himself unprecedented powers to appoint and dismiss ministers, pass laws and designate his own successor. Pétain became Head of the French State and the Third Republic ceased to exist. Conclusion In the wake of the bombardments at Mers el-Kébir, rhetoric was deployed on both sides of the Channel as a strategic tool of domestic and foreign policy. For Britain, it was intrinsic to the policy-making process. The War Cabinet studied the metropolitan press, diplomatic reports and intelligence reports. Using these resources, they concluded that action against the fleet was likely to be popular with the majority of the British public and American officials. Senior figures in the Admiralty worked from these expectations as they carefully wrote and revised their press statements and broadcasts. Studying these communications highlights the value of Operation Catapult not only as a strategic military venture but also even more so as a symbolic declaration of absolute determination to carry on the war. The violence of the bombardments was justified using language that promised ultimate victory. The British press created an aura of certainty around these promises, by linking historic victories with contemporary policy. Within these depictions, France played the role of a beleaguered nation under the thumb of Germany and the defeatist Pétain government. Its only chance to overcome this domination was through British victory and rescue. At the same time, British and French leadership were both eager to gain international and especially American approval for their policies. British press statements, Churchill’s Commons address and corresponding press articles all alluded to the idea of American support. In fact, they cited examples of American backing as a way to justify British policy towards the fleet. French criticisms of British policy towards its naval forces did not gain much traction internationally. Only a few nations, including Bulgaria and Turkey, were supportive. This lacklustre response did not stop Foreign Minister Baudouin from encouraging his overseas representatives to promote sympathy for the French as victims of a British attack. However, even he recognised the paucity of international support for this version of events. Nevertheless, French rhetoric after Mers el-Kébir is instructive because it laid the groundwork for much of what would be written over the next two years, before the total occupation of the metropole late in 1942. The themes that were present in Baudouin’s

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communiqués  and Pétain’s statements were part of a larger narrative. It attempted to preserve French interests and French sovereignty in the aftermath of a devastating defeat and armistice. Pétain fought directly against British claims that his government did not represent true French interests and he challenged Churchill’s conceptions of French honour. For Pétain, holding on to French honour meant protecting the sovereignty of the French metropole. The Vichy government thus positioned metropolitan France as a neutral nation in the surrounding conflict. This allowed it to portray British actions at Mers el-Kébir as both unlawful and immoral. Moreover, through the press, Baudouin suggested that French neutrality was a product of Britain’s failure (or perhaps refusal) to build up sufficient arms and men for the European struggle. They preferred to barricade themselves on their island, hoarding materials for their own defensive stand, he claimed. The events at Mers el-Kébir held major significance for both sides. For Britain, they were the point of departure for a new and reinvigorated struggle. For Vichy, the bombardments were the first in a string of wrongs committed by the British government against the sovereign French state. In the coming weeks and months, the bombardments would fade from British memory. But for Vichy, Mers el-Kébir was an event that it would refer to throughout the war. By late September, a British memorandum would describe the impact of Mers el-Kébir on the Franco-British relationship as, ‘a period of intense suspicion and anti-British feeling gradually readjusting itself to the present attitude, which is the maintenance of the status quo’.115 However, even if there were fewer visual reminders of Operation Catapult in British rhetoric, the bombardments lingered in other ways. British action towards the French fleet was praised by the British public, American officials and wider American opinion. The rhetoric chosen to portray and justify Mers el-Kébir helped to construct an aura of certainty within a wartime context of great uncertainty and even doubt. And it shaped expectations of how future wartime operations would be carried out.

115

Enclosure II, ‘War with Vichy Government, Memorandum by the Middle East Joint Planning Staff’, 27 September 1940, CAB 84/23, TNA.

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4

Vichy, the Free French and the Battle for Imperial Influence at Dakar in September 1940

Writing in 1943, Budapest-born historian Emil Lengyel emphasised the strategic importance of Dakar (and the French Empire in Africa more generally) in deciding the current conflict. The overtly racist and imperialist tones of his book depicted France’s African colonies as a bulwark against Germany and a source of revitalising power. ‘Africa was a raison d’être of French imperialism’.1 For Lengyel, the Senegalese port city of Dakar was an important wartime asset. He argued that Britain should have seized it from the Vichy government as soon as French forces withdrew from the conflict in June. However, Lengyel also argued that the empire bestowed certain cultural obligations on its holders. He praised the French colonial administration for its humanitarian approach to imperial rule and criticised the British for holding its colonies at arm’s length. While the British are fair and treat local populations well, he argued, they are cold and impersonal. By contrast, within the French empire, ‘the natives can warm to the French, for whom they feel affinity and attraction. The sunny disposition of the Frenchman is ingratiating, and the native too likes to laugh’.2 It feels reflexive, now, to cringe when reading Lengyel’s descriptions. But they tell us something important about how empire was being thought about during the Second World War, not only as a strategic but also a cultural asset. Alice Conklin has argued that French policy-makers employed a ‘civilising logic’ that justified French colonialism using a rhetoric of liberal values and enlightened rule. This made French colonialism ‘as much a state of mind as it was a set of coercive practices and system of resource extraction’.3 This imperial mind-set placed value on the material and strategic features of a region. At the same time, it linked empire  to

1 2 3

Emil Lengyel, Dakar: Outpost of Two Hemispheres (Garden City, New York: Garden City Publishing Co., Inc., 1943), 13. Ibid., 3. Alice L. Conklin, A Mission to Civilize: The Republican Idea of Empire in France and West Africa, 1895–1930 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1997), 248.

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national greatness and power. It was this symbolic importance of empire, manifested through rhetoric, which became for Vichy a way to assert its legitimacy. Ruth Ginio argued, ‘In “normal” circumstances, no empire had ever pleaded for its subjects’ loyalty and legitimacy was quite irrelevant. Now, suddenly, France’s colonial subjects were no longer taken for granted’.4 For General de Gaulle, empire was also a way to enhance the authenticity of his Free French movement.5 Between 26 and 28 August, the French Equatorial African colonies of Chad, French mandated Cameroon, the French Congo and Oubangui-Chari, joined the side of Free France. However, this process was not straightforward. The Free French faced resistance from military leaders in Oubangui-Chari. In the capital, Bangui, Commandant Cammas encouraged his men to oppose the Free French. In Gabon, the situation was even more tense. Governor Georges Pierre Masson declared that Gabon would join the Free French during the evening of 28–29 August. However, he was opposed by a significant part of the French population in Libreville. Amidst intense local rivalries, Bishop Louis Tardy brought Gabon back into the Vichy camp. Tardy and the Vichy government made the most of this victory, arguing that Gabon’s loyalty demonstrated the illegitimacy of the Gaullist movement. A series of Free French assaults on Gabon in September and October culminated in the invasion of Libreville on 3 November, which fell to Gaullist forces seven days later.6 These shifts in allegiance marked the beginning of a series of battles over French colonial territory. Clashes between British, Free French and Vichy forces were shaped by strategic concerns. But they were also driven by the belief that empire could confer or remove legitimacy. This notion was especially important as Free France and Vichy France each asserted themselves as the true voice of French interests. The Dakar operations, carried out between 23 and 25 September, illustrate just how complicated relations between Britain, Vichy France and the Free French remained at the end of 1940. Each side had produced its own wartime narrative in which empire played a central role. However, each side also had to strike a delicate balance between managing public expectations around those narratives and carrying out 4 5

6

Ruth Ginio, French Colonialism Unmasked, the Vichy Years in French West Africa (Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2006), xiv. Desmond Dinan, The Politics of Persuasion: British Policy and French African Neutrality, 1940–42 (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1988), 56. Eric T. Jennings, Free French Africa in World War II: The African Resistance (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 2. Jennings, Free French Africa, 41–44.

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operations within an unpredictable wartime environment. Dakar was strategically valuable in its own right. It was a naval base and commercial port. It had the best harbour facilities in West Africa between Casablanca and Cape Town, as well as a modern airfield.7 But its importance transcended that of a military asset. An Anglo-Free French defeat here would mean losing strategically valuable territory. It would also land twin blows to de Gaulle’s prestige and that of his British patrons. British officials were keen to maintain the image of solidarity and strength that had been achieved at Mers el-Kébir three months earlier. This mixture of motivations impacted how the Dakar operations were conceptualised and planned in London. War Cabinet personnel were always more reluctant to endorse the operations. They recognised that losses here would have repercussions beyond military quarters. They risked political fallout both in the form of criticism at home and a loss of prestige in the eyes of the metropolitan French and American populations. Moreover, British desires to encourage pro-British sentiment within the French metropole and to shore up morale at home caused tensions with de Gaulle and his Free French movement. Publicly, the British government backed de Gaulle’s movement as the legitimate representative of the French nation. At the same time, it did not allow de Gaulle to participate actively in formulating foreign policy or deciding how to run the war. In other words, Britain’s approach towards de Gaulle was to support him officially while avoiding tarnishing its own image in the event that things went wrong. But when things did go wrong at Dakar, British officials found themselves taking the bulk of the blame for an operation that they had tried to portray as a Free French initiative. Desmond Dinan has argued that the press and public opinion within Britain unanimously blamed de Gaulle for failing to capture Dakar.8 However, rather than criticising the Free French leader, the British press called for parliamentary explanations. These demands placed the British government, not the Free French movement, in the driver’s seat at Dakar. This led to a gap between the narratives of the popular press and official government explanations. Like the bombardments at Mers el-Kébir, critiques of the Dakar operations were inspired by a particular understanding of wartime morality. The British press argued that the decision to withdraw from Dakar was cowardly. Unconsciously, it was employing classic just war conceptions to argue that securing Dakar would serve the common good. In 7 8

Barnett Singer and John Langdon, Cultured Force: Makers and Defenders of the French Colonial Empire (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 2008), 235. Dinan, Persuasion, 60.

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this framework, escalated force was justified, even desired.9 Free French statements had tried to defend the decision to withdraw from Dakar out of empathy for the local population and a desire to avoid heavy casualties in a fight between Frenchmen. Press and public opinion throughout Britain criticised both of these arguments because they were inconsistent with ideas of victory. In this framework, violence was viewed as a necessary precursor to victory. Anglo-Gaullist relations remained complex in late 1940, but so too did relations between Britain and Vichy. The uncertainty that characterised these relationships was a product of the wider contextual instability that was prominent throughout the autumn. In the closing months of 1940, the British embassy in Madrid served as a covert backchannel to maintain communication between Britain and Vichy. Despite this evident willingness on the part of the British government to preserve some ties with Vichy, more significant was Britain’s refusal to publicly acknowledge either the legality or the legitimacy of Pétain’s government. The Vichy government also recognised that it needed to find a balance between its former ally and its current occupiers. Vichy officials were willing to use tensions with Britain to gain concessions from Germany and Italy that would allow them to secure and even expand the French empire. But too great an escalation in tensions risked further occupation of French territory, a result that would jeopardise Vichy’s claims of sovereignty. At Dakar, Operation Menace tried to forcibly shift the loyalty of French Senegal from Vichy to the Free French. It only deepened the rift in Franco-British relations that had opened at Mers el-Kébir. And while British officials would try to distance themselves from the operations, the Vichy government invoked images of Britain as its hereditary enemy to make sense of the attacks. This crisis also brought to the fore another rivalry, between Vichy and the Free French. This social and national conflict saw each side asserting itself as the legitimate representative of the French nation state. The British Chiefs of Staff (COS) would argue that the Free French, as a movement that was hostile to the Pétain government, must lead any incursions onto French colonial territory. They, like the War Cabinet, hoped to avoid giving Vichy the chance to accuse Britain of taking its colonies for itself. However, as the retaliatory bombing of Gibraltar by Vichy forces would show, the metropolitan French government intended to explain Dakar as a crisis in Franco-British relations and imperial relations more specifically. At the same time, Vichy deliberately refused to acknowledge the role that 9

James Turner Johnson, Ethics and the Use of Force: Just War in Historical Perspective (Surrey, England: Ashgate, 2011), 2.

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the Free French had played in the operations. This left Vichy and de Gaulle in the midst of a rhetorical battle in which each side fought to confirm its own representative legitimacy. Each side saw empire as the source of its symbolic and strategic power. Planning Operation Menace Arthur Marder’s book, Operation ‘Menace’, The Dakar Expedition and the Dudley North Affair, provides a detailed record of how this operation was planned and carried out.10 But it does not convey many of the hesitations and uncertainties that were part of this process. Members of the War Cabinet and, immediately below that, the Joint Planning Sub Committee (JPSC) took the lead in planning Operation Menace. The reports and recommendations provided by the JPSC included the views of leaders on the ground, namely Edward Spears, General Noel Irwin and Admiral James Cunningham. To a lesser extent, de Gaulle and his lieutenants in Carlton Gardens also helped to shape the operation. But as the expedition was being planned, and even after it had been approved, it was constantly being reconfigured. The vacillations that characterised plans to bring Dakar into the Allied camp reflected four concerns. First, British planners agreed that they had to be prepared to use force to capture the port. Second, de Gaulle insisted that simply pounding the port into submission using British guns risked undermining the legitimacy of any change of allegiance. British decision-makers tended to agree with de Gaulle’s analysis. Third, British intelligence warned that forces at Dakar were likely to resist British or Gaullist demands. Fourth, British officials were at the same time trying to predict how Vichy would respond to an operation against this strategic colonial port. It is easy to see how these issues complicated the operation. Military planners working with local intelligence officials viewed force as essential to its success. But using British guns to strongarm Dakar into allying itself with the Free French would compromise de Gaulle’s image and leave the British open to accusations of imperial encroachment. In an attempt to bypass these obstacles, policy-makers would try to influence what the operational force looked like. The force that was assembled reflected the shared British and Gaullist wish to make the operation look as ‘French’ as possible. This façade, it was hoped, would obscure the overwhelming British administrative and military power that made the operation possible. At the very least, foregrounding Free French involvement would 10

Arthur Marder, Operation ‘Menace’, The Dakar Expedition and the Dudley North Affair (London: Oxford University Press, 1976).

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make it easier to counter claims that the operation constituted a resurgence in Franco-British hostility. Late in July de Gaulle, Spears, and Churchill’s valued assistant and key intelligence adviser, Major Desmond Morton, met to discuss Dakar. The outcome of these talks was a note, which was circulated on 4 August. It proposed a mainly Free French operation to secure Dakar for the Free French and the broader Allied war effort.11 Operation Scipio envisaged de Gaulle sailing from Britain on 15 August. He would rally the federation of French West Africa and occupy its capital, Dakar.12 Then, he would consolidate for Free France the colonies in West and Equatorial Africa.13 However, de Gaulle was adamant that if he met resistance from French forces, ‘the whole operation will be impossible and he would in fact not consider continuing it’.14 Throughout the process of planning the operations, he repeated his unwillingness to participate in a struggle between Frenchmen. Somewhat counterintuitively, he simultaneously accepted that British contingents might use force in case of resistance. De Gaulle knew that any attempt to gain control over Vichy colonial territory would affect broader perceptions of the Free French movement. And he seemed to think that he could separate his own policies and views from the actions of his British backers. De Gaulle insisted that in case of resistance at Dakar, the Free French forces travelling with the British naval squadron should attempt to establish themselves at another base: Pointe-Noire in the French Congo. Pointe-Noire was also strategically significant owing to its proximity to Brazzaville, the capital and governing seat of Afrique équatoriale française (French Equatorial Africa [AEF]). This change of tack, he stressed, would secure strategically valuable territory. But it would also save face. Should the Dakar expedition fail, de Gaulle hoped to distract any critics with an alternative victory in the French Congo.15 On 8 August, the War Cabinet asked the JPSC to draw up plans to capture Dakar. They should prepare for two scenarios. In the first, de Gaulle would be welcomed as the leader of Free France. In the second, the task force would face determined resistance from French West

11 12 13 14 15

‘History of Operation Menace prepared by the Naval Staff’, 30 September 1940, PREM 3/276, The National Archives (henceforth TNA). French West Africa was made up of eight colonial territories: Mauritania, Senegal, French Sudan, French Guinea, Ivory Coast, Upper Volta, Dahomey and Niger. ‘Forces Navales Françaises Libres, par Le Vice-Amiral Muselier’, August 1940, AG/3(1)/251 Dossier 3, Les Archives Nationales (henceforth AN). ‘War Cabinet Joint Planning Sub-Committee, Operation “Menace”, Note by the Secretary’, 8 August 1940, CAB 84/93/25, TNA. ‘Forces Navales Françaises Libres’, August 1940, AG/3(1)/251, AN.

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African forces. Telegrams sent from West Africa provided operational intelligence. Planners noted that anti-British sentiment in Dakar was growing. In particular, there was a great deal of uncertainty regarding Governor-General Pierre Boisson’s attitude. Boisson had briefly considered supporting the continuation of the war from France’s African colonies. However, he chose to remain loyal to the metropolitan government, a decision that was no doubt influenced by his veneration for Pétain.16 Boisson’s communications with Vichy would show that the Governor did not think that the new metropolitan government was doing enough to protect West Africa. Boisson argued that there was a risk that the rest of French colonial Africa would be lost to the Free French.17 But British planners did not know this at the time. Nor would it stop Boisson from resisting any attacks. It would also have been difficult for planners to know for sure how the wider population would respond to such an assault. Senegal had a complex colonial culture. Its Quatre Communes (four communes) model had, during the course of the nineteenth century, granted the original inhabitants (originaires) some of the rights of French citizenship while simultaneously preserving the jurisdiction of Islamic courts. Although units of Tirailleurs Sénégalais (a colonial infantry corps) fought in both World Wars, the Communes system had created hybrid urban environments, including in Dakar, where communities had French rights but were not culturally French.18 Local attitudes, however, were of secondary importance to military planners. The service ministries were far more concerned about establishing the loyalty of French colonial personnel. They were reluctant to sanction an operation that they believed was likely to be met with stiff resistance.19 The JPSC believed that the operation would only be successful if it were carried out by highly trained British forces with a viable plan of attack and the element of surprise. General Irwin (military forces) and Admiral Cunningham (naval forces) were named as joint mission commanders. They would only give the order to land the Free 16 17 18

19

Bernard Droz, ‘Ramognino Pierre, L’Affaire Boisson. Un Proconsul de Vichy en Afrique’, Outre-Mers 94, no. 354 (2007): 360. Pierre Ramognino, L’Affaire Boisson: Un Proconsul de Vichy en Afrique (Paris: Les Indes Savantes, 2006), 92–93. Frederick Cooper, Citizenship between Empire and Nation: Remaking France and French Africa 1945–1960 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014), 6–7. Mamadou Diouf, ‘The French Colonial Policy of Assimilation and the Civility of the Originaires of the Four Communes (Senegal): A Nineteenth Century Globalization Project’, Development and Change 29, no. 4 (1998): 671–675. The Quatre Communes, or Four Towns, were Saint-Louis, Gorée, Rufisque and Dakar. Peter Mangold, Britain and the Defeated French: From Occupation to Liberation, 1940– 1944 (London: I.B. Tauris, 2012), 51.

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French after resistance was subdued.20 These early plans were hidden from de Gaulle. There was still a great deal of reluctance within the British bureaucracy to lend unqualified support to a large-scale French dissidence movement. It was not uncommon to find indifference, and at times open hostility, within the service ministries towards the development of an effective Free French fighting force.21 Rhetorical support for de Gaulle did not always translate into material support. By mid-August, however, the JPSC had revised the operation to include more Free French elements, as Spears and Morton had initially envisaged. The previous, British-led plan, based on a surprise landing of British troops at six beaches and only a small Free French contingent was abandoned due to problems of swell.22 The Vice Chiefs of Staff (VCS), de Gaulle, Spears and Churchill, met on 20 August to discuss changes.23 In this modified plan, de Gaulle would issue an ultimatum to the garrison at Dakar. He would call on British support only if resistance was serious. De Gaulle agreed that if determined Vichyite opposition continued, ‘… the British force would use all the force in their power to break down resistance’, in order to install de Gaulle in Dakar by nightfall.24 At the same time, de Gaulle remained adamant that the operation should retain as much French character as possible and that it should make every effort to avoid bloodshed.25 The contradictions and uncertainties at this early date were already apparent. Both the JPSC and the COS believed that capturing Dakar would require a great deal of manpower. Vice Chief of the Imperial General Staff (VCIGS) Sir Robert Haining argued that a hostile reception at Dakar would require the use of ground forces and ‘withdrawals from the defence of Great Britain which cannot be justified at the present time’.26 General Irwin had similar doubts. He warned that intelligence indicated ‘a marked difference’ between opinions and attitudes of the Dakar garrison and population. At the same time, the War Cabinet knew that forcing Dakar into the Free French camp could compromise the legitimacy of the operation and jeopardise de Gaulle’s claims to represent popular French interests. ‘Every endeavour would be made to secure the place 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

‘Inter Service Planning Staff, Capture of Dakar, 77th Meeting’, 9 August 1940, WO 106/5192, TNA. Dinan, Persuasion, 48–49. ‘Operation “Menace” Report’, 19 August 1940, CAB 80/16/58, TNA. ‘The Dakar Operation, August and September 1940’, May 1942, WO 232/13, TNA. ‘The Dakar Operation, August and September 1940’, May 1942, WO 232/13, TNA. ‘History of Operation “Menace” prepared by the Naval Staff’, PREM 3/276, TNA. ‘Memorandum by General de Gaulle on Operation “Menace”’, 19 August 1940, CAB 80/16/58, TNA. ‘V.C.I.G.S. Strategy’, 18 August 1940, WO 106/5192, TNA.

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without bloodshed, on the plea that an Allied force had come to prevent the Germans seizing Dakar, and to bring succour and help to the colony’.27 These disparities could hinder an operation whose success relied upon a favourable local response.28 Despite these uncertainties, the War Cabinet approved Operation Menace on 27 August. Perhaps, the news that territories in AEF were rallying to de Gaulle made it more confident that the expedition would meet little resistance. But the operation was moving forward without a full picture of local sentiment. Officials had yet to be briefed by Commander Rushbrooke and Captain Poulter, liaison officers with the French in Dakar. Haining suggested postponing the operation for four weeks until they had more information on local conditions. But the War Cabinet declined.29 Rushbrooke and Poulter were able to convey their intelligence on 29 August, but this was only two days before the expedition sailed from Scapa, the Clyde and Liverpool. Both officers emphasised the strength of defences and the loyalty of troops to the commander of the Dakar garrison and Pétain.30 The official British Admiralty recounting of the last days of August explained that despite these warnings, nothing could be done. The final approval had already been given.31 Britain’s operational plans also had to consider the possibility that Vichy would retaliate against threats to its empire. For Vichy, as for the Free French, empire represented a valuable strategic asset. Its retention was important to the legitimacy of Pétain’s government. It was the empire that would ‘compensate France for its defeat’, and sustaining this myth meant protecting it from any external threats.32 Only a week before the attacks, Boisson would write to Vichy arguing that the peace of French Africa was under constant threat as a result of the ‘insidious British propaganda’.33 Even before de Gaulle consolidated AEF for the 27 28 29

30 31 32 33

W.M. (40) 225th Conclusions, Minute 6, Confidential Annex, 13 August 1940, CAB 65/14/21, TNA. ‘Operation “Menace”, Memorandum by Major-General Irwin circulated for consideration by the Chiefs of Staff’, 27 August 1940, CAB 80/17/27, TNA. ‘Operation “Menace” Memorandum by the Vice Chief of the Imperial General Staff’, 17 August 1940, CAB 80/16/53, TNA. The event was also reportedly held up a further three days due to ‘misbehaviour by some of the French crews’. Evidently, improved messing consisting of champagne and frois grois was demanded. Additionally, the captain’s mistress had disappeared and he refused to sail until she was found. ‘Admiralty Record Office, “Unofficial Account of Operation, Major P. R. Smith Hill, Royal Marines”’, ADM 199/907, TNA. ‘The Dakar Operation, August and September 1940’, May 1942, WO 232/13, TNA. Captain S. W. Roskill, The War at Sea 1939–1945, Vol. 1, The Defensive (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1954), 308. Ginio, French Colonialism Unmasked, 10. Ramognino, L’Affaire Boisson, 93.

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Free French, Vichy officials had discussed using the rise in Anglophobia caused by Mers el-Kébir to expand overseas at the expense of Britain. A Staff Study dated 10 July 1940 suggested that the French Middle East Army could seize Iraqi oil fields at Mosul and Kirkuk.34 Whether Vichy forces would have, in practice, carried out these operations at the risk of opening a full-scale war with Britain is debatable. But this kind of belligerent stance underlines how important empire and even imperial planning was to Vichy’s claims of sovereignty and legitimacy. Early in September, as British ships sailed towards Dakar, the War Cabinet considered a note from COS Secretary, General Hastings Ismay. He expressed concern about the possibility of reprisals from Vichy, a risk increased in his view because a lack of secrecy was jeopardising the operation.35 An earlier War Cabinet session had concluded that the likelihood of Vichy declaring war on the British was not very high. However, retaliations against British colonial possessions were considered likely.36 The Joint Planning Staff (JPS) anticipated several possible reactions: air attacks on Gibraltar and/or Malta, attacks on British trade in the Atlantic by submarines and active operations by contingents of the French fleet.37 Even after the departure of the task force, decision-makers were still arguing over the advisability of the operation. And on the same day that the War Cabinet was considering Ismay’s warnings, another incident threatened to derail the operation. A French squadron was on its way to Dakar. The British Consul in Tangier and the Naval Attaché in Madrid both warned London on 9 and 10 September, respectively, that a French squadron was approaching the straights of Gibraltar. These warnings were immediately forwarded to the War Cabinet.38 Admiral Dudley North, Admiral Commanding of the North Atlantic did not try to detain the ships. Three French cruisers and three destroyers from Toulon passed through the straights on 11 September. On enquiry, North defended his actions. Having received no further instructions following the warnings from Tangier and Madrid, he had conferred with Gibraltar-based 34 35 36 37 38

Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order, 1940–1944 (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1972), 59, 61. ‘War Cabinet Joint Planning Staff, Operation “Menace” Note by the Secretary’, 10 September 1940, CAB 84/18, TNA. W.M. (40) 235th Conclusions, Minute 7 Confidential Annex 27, 27 August 1940, CAB 65/14/26, TNA. ‘Implications of French Hostility Arising from Operation “Menace”, Report by the Joint Planning Staff’, 10 September 1940, CAB 80/106/3, TNA. ‘Message from Tangier Consul General’, 9 September 1940, NRTH 1/3, Churchill Archive Centre (henceforth CCAC). ‘Message from Naval Attaché Madrid’, 10 September 1940, NRTH 1/3, CCAC.

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Vice Admiral James Somerville. Together, they observed that the French ships were not attempting to disguise themselves and were acting with friendly intentions. There was no reason to impede them. The ships were allowed to pass, and North even sent a friendly message: ‘Bon voyage’.39 In the War Cabinet, this turn of events rocked the foundations of the operation. Policy-makers tried to estimate how these ships could impact the success of their plans from a tactical perspective. But their discussions also revealed how intangible factors, such as prestige and credibility, influenced their willingness to proceed with the endeavour. One historian has described Operation Menace as a sequel to Mers el-Kébir, an endeavour to consolidate militarily strategic assets in the wake of the French defeat.40 This observation overlooks the symbolic role that such operations could and did play throughout the war. Such considerations are crucial to understanding the plethora of motivations that influenced how Menace was planned and carried out, in the War Cabinet, the Service Ministries and the Free French Headquarters at Carlton Gardens. British policy recognised that seizing French colonial territory was in a different category from ensuring that the fleet did not fall into enemy hands. The politics of these operations were complicated. This was not because they risked alienating British public opinion. Their complexity stemmed from the desire to portray any operations involving French colonial territory as French in character.41 Avoiding accusations of imperial rivalry was one reason for this approach. Maintaining the credibility of de Gaulle’s movement as a real alternative to Pétain’s government was a second. The very real need to manage limited wartime resources was a third. After the squadron of French ships had arrived at Dakar, British and Free French decision-making reflected this combination of military and political concerns. The initial response in the War Cabinet was to cancel the expedition. On 16 September, Undersecretary for Foreign Affairs Alexander Cadogan expressed his delight at this outcome.42 ‘The French ships have forestalled us in Dakar, and so “Menace” is off! I cannot truly say I am sorry!’43 This decision should also have been a relief to

39

40 41 42 43

‘Passage of Three French Cruisers and Three French Destroyers from Toulon through the Straights of Gibraltar on 11 September 1940’, 8 December 1940, AVAR 5/4, CCAC. Marder, Operation ‘Menace’, vii. ‘Note on Political Considerations of Dakar Movements’, August 1940, PREM 3/276, TNA. ‘History of Operation “Menace” prepared by the Naval Staff’, PREM 3/276, TNA. Alexander Cadogan, The Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan 1938–1945, ed. David Dilks (London: Cassell, 1971), 16 September 1940.

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de Gaulle. Only days before, he had told Spears that if the squadron reached Dakar he did not think the port would come over to the Free French side willingly.44 However, after the operations were cancelled, de Gaulle, Spears, Cunningham and Irwin all argued that Menace should go forward as planned.45 Britain’s Force M had just been reinforced by two cruisers from the South Atlantic Fleet.46 The prospect of a military victory made the operation attractive for both Cunningham and Irwin. For his part, de Gaulle continued to declare that he would not involve himself in a fight amongst Frenchmen. But he agreed that if the Dakar garrison tried to stop his representatives from landing, British troops could use force to install him.47 He wanted to achieve tangible, territorial gains and protect recent advances in AEF.48 Churchill justified his own shift in thinking in his memoirs. Although he ‘had no doubt whatever that the enterprise should be abandoned’, the unexpected zeal showed by military leadership on the ground, caused him to change his mind.49 The Dakar operations were also deeply political. We know that de Gaulle did not want his movement to be associated with displays of violence against other Frenchmen. This attitude was also echoed in British policy-making quarters. Part of the reluctance to use force was based on the desire not to alienate metropolitan French opinion. The Ministry of Information (MOI) warned the War Cabinet that Menace could damage recent favourable shifts in metropolitan French attitudes towards Britain and de Gaulle.50 The British Consul in Geneva had recently passed on information from a Monsieur Ruffin, which suggested that Vichy leadership had asked the press not to attack the British so strongly.51 And in the autumn of 1940, Vichy and Britain were still exchanging diplomatic messages through Madrid. While these contacts hardly constituted any concrete agreement or relationship, they were symptomatic of British willingness to entertain a broader concept of Franco-British relations alongside the Anglo-Gaullist relationship. A pitched battle over Dakar risked jeopardising this delicate balance. 44 45 46 47 48

49 50 51

‘Secret Message to Admiral Cunningham from General Spears’, 13 September 1940, SPRS 136, CCAC. ‘History of Operation Menace Prepared by the Naval Staff’, PREM 3/276, TNA. Roskill, The War at Sea, 315. ‘The Dakar Operation, August and September 1940’, May 1942, WO 232/13, TNA. Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs of Charles de Gaulle, Vol. 1, The Call to Honour 1940–1942, Trans. Jonathan Griffin (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1955), 121. Churchill, Their Finest Hour, 427. W.M. (40) 255th Conclusions Minute 2 Confidential Annex, 20 September 1940, CAB 65/15/9, TNA. ‘Télégramme de Consul Britannique, Genève’, 18 September 1940, AG/3(1)/192, AN.

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At the same time, British rhetoric was committed to publicly backing the Free French as the true representative of French interests and as a symbol of ongoing Franco-British solidarity. The operations at Dakar needed to maintain and even strengthen the credibility of these claims by making it look like French colonies were queuing up to join de Gaulle. Major General Irwin conveyed this sentiment to forces participating in the operation when he emphasised the political importance of installing de Gaulle as a leader within the broader region of French West Africa.52 Sailing orders for the operation stressed the need to ‘make every effort clearly to establish the Free French character of your force.’ This was done in part to avoid dissent from the residents of Dakar. But it was also intended to preserve the legitimacy of the operation from a broader perspective.53 The relationship between de Gaulle and his British patrons was certainly not an equal one. But neither was de Gaulle completely powerless. In the public eye, the Anglo-Free French relationship relied on each side reinforcing the legitimacy of the other. In London, Secretary of State for War Anthony Eden argued that de Gaulle would not have a political future if he did not proceed with the operation. Spears warned that ‘the political consequences of ordering de Gaulle to abandon Menace and proceed to Duala may be serious, since … they might result in de Gaulle representing himself as abandoned by the British Government’.54 The outcome of operations at Dakar would also impact how key neutral countries, including the United States, measured the strength of the Allied war effort. After the War Cabinet agreed to reinstate the operation on 18 September, Churchill sent a telegram to President Roosevelt five days later. He wrote, ‘It looks as if there might be a stiff fight. Perhaps not, but anyhow orders have been given to ram it through’.55 The cavalier tone of the message conveyed Britain as a capable and plucky fighter, a solid investment for American arms and eventually men. But it also showcased the contradictions that would derail the operation, between shoring up popular support for de Gaulle’s movement and engaging in an armed struggle against French colonial territory. Carrying Out the Operation: Using Force and Saving Face After being postponed for 24 hours, Menace commenced in heavy fog at 6:00 on the morning of 23 September. Initial reports received by the 52 53 54 55

‘Operation “Menace” Dakar’, 19 September 1940, ADM 202/412, TNA. ‘Sailing Orders for Dakar Operations’, 20 September 1940, SPRS 136, CCAC. Ibid. ‘Report on Strategy of Menace’, 17 September 1940, WO 106/5192, TNA. Churchill, Their Finest Hour, 432.

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War Cabinet from British operational headquarters on board the Barham indicated that Vichy forces were formally resisting. The Cumberland had been hit. The resistance that greeted the Anglo-Free French force dashed any remaining hopes that the garrison would swiftly transfer its allegiance to de Gaulle. Nevertheless, de Gaulle and his British backers remained optimistic that they would be able to retain the moral credibility of the operation. International relations scholar Michael Butler has argued that the way in which wartime decisions are presented is an essential part of the process of waging war.56 This idea was reflected in the language of the official statements on Dakar, most of which were formulated by de Gaulle and issued by Carleton Gardens. It was also apparent in the timing of these announcements. As soon as the War Cabinet realised that Dakar was unlikely to abandon its loyalty to Vichy, it instructed the MOI to issue a statement explaining the operations before the Germans had a chance to comment.57 British ministers hoped to take control of the narrative as quickly as possible, by inserting and justifying their own version of events. From onboard the Westernland, de Gaulle radioed appeals to the garrison to join the Free French while British planes dropped pro-Allied pamphlets to the city’s inhabitants. These messages appeared to have little effect. Batteries from the French ships Goree Island and Richelieu opened fire almost immediately after de Gaulle’s unarmed negotiators attempted to land, shortly after 7:00 a.m.58 Free French forces tried at 1:38 p.m. to begin landing operations at Rufisque but fierce resistance and poor communications forced them to withdraw at 4:47 p.m.59 De Gaulle and Cunningham lost communication early in the operation and the latter was unable to locate the transports carrying Free French troops in the heavy fog.60 At 11:45 p.m. that evening, Cunningham issued an ultimatum to Governor Boisson. If he did not surrender the garrison by 6:00 a.m. the following morning, British ships would have no choice but to open fire. His threat received a by now familiar rejection.61 Back in London, Cadogan had regained none of his enthusiasm for the operation. He lamented in his diary that evening, ‘“Menace” going none too well’.62 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

Michael J. Butler, Selling a ‘Just’ War: Framing, Legitimacy, and U.S. Military Intervention (Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 10. War Cabinet 256 (40) Conclusions, 23 September 1940, CAB 65/9/18, TNA. ‘Summary of Operations 23–25 September 1940, Westernland’, September 1940, AG/3(1)/251, Dossier 3, AN. ‘H.M.S. Ark Royal, Cedric Holland, Timeline of Operations’, 29 September 1940, ADM 199/907, TNA. Roskill, The War at Sea, 317. Force M to Admiralty, 4.50, 24 September 1940, ADM 223/507, TNA. Cadogan, Diaries, 23 September 1940.

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The next morning brought no improvements in visibility. British naval bombardments began at 6:25 a.m.63 The Vichy garrison returned fire with deadly accuracy.64 Disappointment was high among Free French and British personnel. The operational commanders were in favour of stopping the engagement, but de Gaulle was hesitant. He argued, ‘in view of the ultimatum this could be taken as nothing less than an acknowledgment of complete and absolute failure’.65 Faced with a ‘rather depressing’ situation, the tension between the operation’s political objectives and the military obstacles it was confronted with was more evident than ever. Despite his earlier reluctance to use violence against the port, de Gaulle now found it difficult to see any other alternative. Withdrawing now would place a feather in Vichy’s cap at the expense of his own movement. He would be hard-pressed to attract followers from within metropolitan France, or recognition from the United States as a credible resistance force. Eventually, Cunningham and Irwin agreed to end the bombardment and try once more the following day. This decision, which Free French reports stressed was made jointly between themselves and the British, was no doubt difficult.66 However, it was the rhetoric surrounding these joint decisions that illustrated how aware both partners were of the need to shape public perceptions of this military debacle. Ismay reported to Spears that de Gaulle had ‘suggested a good temporary face saving’ when he advocated telling Dakar’s inhabitants that the bombardment was to cease at his request.67 Goodwill, rather than a lack of military force, explained the decision to withdraw. De Gaulle was trying to create an image of moral accountability and altruism. He deliberately, and understandably, tried to obscure the fact that his own movement was hardly an unbridled success, and that he was reliant upon the British for military materials, and indeed political recognition. The same telegram stressed that the Anglo-Free French force should be portrayed as victims of the Dakar garrison’s unsportsmanlike tactics. ‘It is essential to suggest that de Gaulle’s Emissaries were fired at majority wounded … that same applies British who also suffered loss before returning fire [sic]’.68 This approach foregrounded the good intentions 63 64 65 66

67 68

Marder, Operation ‘Menace’, 131. ‘Summary of Operations 23–25 September 1940, Westernland’, AG/3(1)/251, AN. ‘Spears Mission Timeline of Events’, 24 September 1940, SPRS 136, CCAC. ‘Summary of Operations 23–25 September 1940, Westernland’, AG/3(1)/251, AN. ‘Report of Lieutenant Kaminker and Adjutant Desjardins, Barham’, 23–25 September 1940, AG/3(1)/251, AN. Ismay to Spears, Secret Cipher Telegram, 24 September 1940, PREM 3/276, TNA. Ibid.

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of the Free French, whose unarmed negotiators had suffered the indignity of being shot at as they sailed away. British forces had returned fire only in self-defence. British and Free French rhetoric employed a classic method, in which war is described as an act of self-defence, rather than a punitive conflict. This makes it possible to justify engagement in war as a means of protecting your own nation even while encroaching on the territory of another state.69 Vichy would use a similar model to criticise the Menace operations while situating itself as a neutral nation rather than a combatant. By using these tactics, both sides were acknowledging the symbolic significance of wartime operations. Rhetoric was employed to situate the operations within the framework of competing Anglo-Free French and Vichy French wartime narratives. On 25 September, officials at the scene and in London debated how long operations against Dakar should be continued. A War Cabinet meeting the previous evening had found most members, including Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax, Eden and First Lord of the Admiralty Alexander, in favour of ending the conflict. Members also discussed two related issues. First, they noted the need to forestall public agitation within Britain in response to the French cruisers being allowed to pass through Gibraltar. Second, they agreed that abandoning operations at Dakar would strengthen Vichy’s position.70 British forces bombarded Dakar for a final time between 9:00 a.m. and 9:25 a.m. that morning before de Gaulle decided that he should go to Konakry to try and rally French Guinea. He was concerned that French public opinion would be irreparably alienated if he were seen to engage his forces against his countrymen.71 The decision to abandon Menace triggered efforts to salvage the situation from a rhetorical perspective. Spears immediately sent information to General Ismay ‘… suggesting a way of presenting the operation to the public’.72 De Gaulle’s approach to the press focussed upon preserving the benevolent character of the operation and pinning most of the blame on the Germans. Churchill took charge of damage control with the Americans. He wrote to Roosevelt claiming that the operation had failed because of the presence of Vichy partisans who had ‘gripped and held down … all friendly elements’.73 Nevertheless, like other public 69 70 71 72 73

Oliver O’Donovan, The Just War Revisited (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 22. W.M. (40) 258th Conclusions Minute 2 Confidential Annex, 25 September 1940, CAB 65/15/10, TNA. ‘Spears Mission Timeline of Events’, 24 September 1940, SPRS 136, CCAC. Ibid. Churchill, Their Finest Hour, 435.

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communiqués, he was careful to avoid implying that Vichy had achieved any meaningful level of popular support. The Free French movement was still fragile. Strengthening its image relied upon delegitimising Pétain’s government. In the absence of a military victory at Dakar, rhetoric became even more important in this endeavour. Explanations of the operations were consistent across communiqués issued by Carleton Gardens and the British Admiralty: numerous French citizens wishing to continue the fight against Germany had requested de Gaulle’s presence in Dakar. These reports emphasised the ruthlessness and, by association, the immorality of the Vichy forces. While still on board the Westernland, Free French personnel wrote press releases, which were sent through Cunningham to the London Admiralty Offices and General Ismay for publication. In a press release that arrived in London on 24 September, de Gaulle used a ‘call of duty’ argument to shift agency away from the Free French forces. He blamed the failure of the day’s events on a minority of Vichy leaders under the thumb of the Germans. De Gaulle argued that he had been ‘called to Dakar by numerous Frenchmen anxious to continue the fight at his side …’ and that these voices had been suppressed by a small group of men loyal to Vichy and willing to follow the orders of the German oppressors.74 De Gaulle’s press releases argued that his actions at Dakar were the product of widespread popular calls for Free French intervention in the territory. He hoped that readers would identify with this explanation. Like the press publications that followed the collapse of France, the statements prepared by de Gaulle’s team placed blame squarely on the authorities at Dakar. They aimed to legitimise de Gaulle’s movement by describing how a handful of Vichy officials had opened fire on defenceless Free French emissaries. And they explained de Gaulle’s decision to end the operation as a humanitarian initiative rather than a strategic loss. De Gaulle ‘withdrew his troops and his ships not wishing to be party to a fight between Frenchmen’.75 He invoked images of numerous ‘true’ Frenchmen who were desperate to join the Free French. He marginalised Vichy rhetorically by assigning blame for the bombardments to a few outlying actors. Blaming the withdrawal on German infiltration and a handful of French leaders loyal to Vichy also allowed de Gaulle to strip away the violence of his own actions. In his version of events, he had answered rather than anticipated calls for assistance. He was a saviour, not an invader. Free French reports also attempted to turn the British contingent of the operation into a purely diplomatic force. ‘They [Vichy] 74 75

Force M to Admiralty, 23.30, 23 September 1940, ADM 223/507, TNA. Ibid.

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also opened fire on British ships which were merely observing the situation, and it was only after they had suffered serious casualties that the British Fleet opened fire in retaliation’.76 The War Cabinet, however, was hesitant to publish the communiqué in British papers. It only agreed to do so after realising that it had already appeared in the American press.77 Free French descriptions of Menace portrayed the operation in a static rather than a fluid sense. In other words, they avoided discussing the operation as a dynamic process, during which each side made calculated and strategic choices over a period of time. Instead, they directed attention towards a selection of factors that had motivated the expedition and to the outcome of the operation. The decisions that were made between the starting and end points of the operation disappeared from view. This imposed a sense of inevitability on the events that followed and relieved agency from the Free French. A 27 September cypher message from de Gaulle to his French Equatorial African territories and specifically General Edgard de Larminat, Philippe Leclerc, and Governor of Chad, Félix Éboué illustrated this approach. It was entitled ‘facts which should be known and repeated’.78 The message contained a list of justifications for both the initial action and its subsequent outcome. In summary: 1. Initiation of the operation due to requests from elements within Senegal. 2. Totally French in nature; the British were present only to observe. 3. Following German demands, Vichy sent a squadron to Dakar, which reinforced the defences and arrested French partisans. 4. The British opened fire only after sustaining causalities. 5. The bombardment was ceased by request of de Gaulle because he was not in favour of the result it would achieve.79 Even more so than the British operations at Mers el-Kébir, there was a deep awareness of the need to present the operation as both ethically and militarily expedient.80 Describing Britain’s role as solely observational was a blatant lie. Nor was there any evidence that the squadron that had arrived in Dakar had been sent there as a result of German demands. De Gaulle was trying desperately to salvage a sense of authority and political 76 77 78 79 80

Ibid. War Cabinet 257 (40) Conclusions, 24 September 1940, CAB 65/9/19, TNA. De Gaulle to Larminat, Leclerc and Éboué, 27 September 1940, SPRS 136, CCAC. Ibid. Again, it is possible to see a real disinterest to engage with or distinguish between the range of sentiments within the population, particularly when it comes to local Senegalese inhabitants.

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agency. It was clear that he hoped to imply that while military force could have easily overcome the defences at Dakar, he had deliberately chosen to withdraw in order to avoid further loss of life. De Gaulle continued to maintain an almost palpable concern when it came to the perceived legitimacy of his own movement. Until 10 September, only 2,172 Frenchmen had signed up to join the Free French Naval Force despite early hopes for resistance within both the Naval and colonial spheres.81 Notwithstanding the best efforts of de Gaulle and the Admiralty, the following days would see strong criticism from the press in Britain, the United States and, obviously, Vichy. Spears himself acknowledged, ‘… the effect of Dakar on English and American opinion has been absolutely disastrous’.82 Churchill’s later justifications of the withdrawal as one of the ‘unforeseeable accidents of war’ admitted that, to the rest of the world, the operation ‘seemed a glaring example of miscalculation, confusion, timidity and muddle’.83 Dakar in the Press and Public Opinion After Anglo-Free French forces withdrew from Dakar, Churchill received a telegram from Quebec. In it, Harold Rothermere (known for owning Associated Newspapers Ltd. and for his interwar admiration of Hitler) described what he saw as a massive gap between the press and public opinion: ‘Dakar incident ridiculously magnified by carping newspapers. Nobody in Canada or United States gives a thought to it. Every Britisher throughout world knows you are winning the war and that is all that matters’. [sic]84 Rothermere may have been a rather unsavoury presence on Britain’s political scene. But he identified something that was very important: the necessity of convincing the outside world that Britain would win the war. Unfortunately, just as his admiration for Hitler was extreme in its poor judgment, so too his understanding of public opinion seemed to land wide of the mark. Public responses that advocated taking a tough line at Dakar echoed earlier responses to Mers el-Kébir. They would resurface during Anglo-Free French attempts to capture the Levant states in 1941. Leo Amery, Secretary of State for the Colonies, received a letter from MP Robert Bower expressing concern

81 82 83 84

‘Organisation of Allied Naval, Army and Air Contingents’, 25 September 1940, CAB 66/12/14, TNA. Edward Spears, ‘Meeting at Government House, 14.30’, 1 October 1940, SPRS 136, CCAC. Churchill, Their Finest Hour, 437. Rothermere to Churchill, No date, CHAR 2/398, CCAC.

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in the wake of the withdrawal. ‘I am at the moment with a considerable part of the fleet. The feeling about Dakar is very strong. Norway all over again! It will do the Government a lot of harm unless drastic steps are taken’.85 Press releases issued by the MOI and published on 24 and 26 September made concerted attempts to convince the public that British political involvement in Menace was minimal. The Gaullist operation, the initial press release asserted, was merely ‘accompanied by a British force, which will lend him full support’.86 De Gaulle was deeply pained by the fallout from the failed invasions, writing in his memoirs that the American and British press blamed him for the debacle. Churchill’s outwardly supportive attitude, he argued, relieved pressure from parliamentary and press sources.87 However, a closer look at the British media reveals that the issue of blame was far more complicated. The press did not recognise the operation as an exclusively Free French venture. Any blame that was levelled at de Gaulle was secondary to criticisms of the British government. A summary of American responses to the event concluded with a warning from The New York Times: ‘It would be folly for the British or their friends to minimize the probable effects of this defeat’.88 The garrison’s resistance against Anglo-Gaullist forces was a propaganda coup for Vichy. It was proof that a substantial number of French forces believed in and were willing to fight for Pétain’s new government.89 In an often repeated argument, Vichy rhetoric positioned metropolitan France as a victimised and misunderstood nation, whose leaders were struggling to protect its empire from the designs of its greedy former ally. During and immediately after the Dakar operations, British decisionmakers were closely monitoring the responses emerging in the local press and developing in public opinion. The operations were given front-page spreads in news outlets across England and Scotland.90 But specific details about the operations were hard to come by. British and Free French press releases contained few particulars about the clashes between Vichy and British forces. This resulted in news outlets printing data from Vichy alongside the justifications provided in 85 86 87 88 89 90

Leo Amery, Bower to Amery, 28 September 1940, AMEL 2/1/31, CCAC. ‘De Gaulle’s Move in West Africa’, The Times, 24 September 1940, 4. De Gaulle, Call to Honour, 129. Our Own Correspondent, ‘Americans on Dakar Adventure, A Major Blunder’, The Times, 27 September 1940, 4. Martin Thomas, The French Empire at War 1940–45 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), 76. Home Press Summaries, 24 September 1940, ADM 1/10321, TNA.

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MOI materials.91 The first story broke on 24 September. It summarised Vichy’s claims that British ships had shelled the port after the ultimatum was refused. And it printed the MOI’s initial statement, which argued that German designs on the port made its seizure essential. The MOI also claimed that ‘friendly elements’ in Dakar had requested Allied intervention.92 Early British news stories generously recognised the Free French character of the operation, as titles like ‘De Gaulle’s Move in West Africa’ and ‘Operations at Dakar: How they Arose, Explanations by Free French’ show.93 The press also described metropolitan French leaders as ‘French Hirelings’ controlled by their German masters. This categorisation made it clear who was really in control of French affairs and lent further legitimacy to Free French rhetoric. The metropolitan government was depicted as irrational and deluded, a spent force relying upon the pretence of imperial power in order to conceal its subservience to Germany. ‘This blissful ignorance of German and Italian plans is being assiduously cultivated by the Vichy press and wireless, which continues to talk about “our magnificent Colonial Empire”’.94 The British press only began to criticise Menace in earnest around 27 September. MOI and Free French press releases continued to defend de Gaulle’s original intelligence citing considerable French support for his movement in Dakar and the rest of Senegal. However, press correspondents challenged the wisdom of the operation. The Guardian called for fuller government explanations: ‘At present the causes of the blunder remain obscure. The mystery is how so great a mistake came to be made’.95 The press, arguing that ‘public opinion is disturbed by the Dakar fiasco’, called for an official explanation and for the outcome of the operation to be examined in Parliament (an event that did not take place until 8 October).96 British ministers initially believed that German air raids, which had commenced earlier in September, would distract public attention away

91

92 93

94 95 96

Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Vichy’s Efforts to Hold Dakar’, The Times, 25 September 1940, 4. ‘De Gaulle’s Reported Ultimatum: Vichy Decides to “Defend the Colony”’, The Guardian, 24 September 1940, 5. ‘British Force Shelling Dakar: Vichy Report of Ultimatum’, The Guardian, 24 September 1940, 5. ‘Operations at Dakar: How They Arose, Explanation by Free French’, The Guardian, 25 September 1940, 2. ‘De Gaulle’s Move in West Africa’, The Times, 24 September 1940, 4. ‘Dakar Action Continues’, The Times, 25 September 1940, 4. Former Paris Correspondent, ‘Germany’s Double Game in Morocco’, The Guardian, 23 September 1940, 5. ‘Dakar’, The Guardian, 27 September 1940, 4. ‘Our London Correspondence: London, Thursday Night Public Opinion and Dakar’, The Guardian, 27 September 1940, 4.

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from international issues. Information gathered by Home Intelligence (the social research arm of the MOI) just as the raids were beginning had concluded that the public was prioritising questions of home defence.97 Particularly in London, residents faced a plethora of daily concerns. There was growing resentment in the East End due to a lack of deep shelters.98 And the MOI had earlier instructed the press to limit the publication of photos showing bomb damage in London so as not to dampen public spirits.99 Surveys carried out in late September and early October claimed that Londoners and the ‘vast masses of largely inarticulate people’ showed little interest in Dakar, being preoccupied with nightly bombing.100 However, regional information officers reported a ‘violent reaction to the Dakar incident’. Outside of London, the decision to back down from the confrontation was generating widespread criticism. ‘To win this war we must take the gloves off and fight’.101 Press summaries compiled by the British Admiralty noted that strong criticisms of Dakar in the London press were juxtaposed with reports that praised the morale of the British people under nightly bombing raids.102 The fact that public attention was split between home defence and operations abroad did not mean that criticisms aimed at the operation were not taken seriously. Churchill was keenly aware of the negative press coverage. Although MOI reports had indicated a certain level of public disinterest when it came to the Dakar operations, the fallout from Menace continued to be discussed in the War Cabinet and monitored through Admiralty Home Press Summaries. The press remained important because those groups that monitored public opinion considered it to be a viable window into local and international sentiment. Moreover, the tone and content of these articles revealed a great deal about how the press and public expected the war to be fought. They were consistent with earlier reactions to Operation Catapult, which had praised the venture for its tenacity and resolve. After it was announced on 26 September that the Dakar expedition would be suspended, the press took a similar line. It unceremoniously dismissed de Gaulle’s moral and humanitarian explanations for ending the confrontation and argued that the garrison should have been made to submit.

97 98 99 100 101 102

‘What the Public is Asking No. 3’, 7 September 1940, INF 1/283, TNA. Richard Toye, The Roar of the Lion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 75. War Cabinet 255 (40) Conclusions, 20 September 1940, CAB 65/9/17, TNA. ‘Reaction to Dakar and de Gaulle, Home Intelligence Weekly Reports’, 30 September–9 October 1940, INF 1/292, TNA. Ibid. Home Press Summaries, 27 September 1940, ADM 1/10321, TNA.

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Despite efforts to cast the British in a supporting role at Dakar, the press called for explanations from Parliament and the War Cabinet, not from de Gaulle.103 The operation, and more precisely, the decision to withdraw, was seen as a failure. It was inconsistent with Britain’s wartime narrative and its promises to maintain absolute resolve in securing victory. This was despite official arguments underlining the ethical justifications for backing down. In just war theory, wartime actions are often expected to be characterised by self-mastery, decisive action and contempt for death.104 In this framework, it is possible, even desirable, to temporarily normalise extraordinary conditions in order to achieve a rightful victory. This includes the legitimate application of government force outside traditional zones of sovereignty.105 Withdrawing from Dakar violated these core notions of how wars are fought and won. Criticisms of Allied failures at Dakar were rooted in these understandings of war. Churchill’s private secretary, John Colville, noted in his diary that criticism for the debacle at Dakar was strong in local and American papers.106 Even The Times, the least critical of the national broadsheets, published an article arguing that the British should not have undertaken the task unless it had enough forces to see it through. Losses at Dakar created a sense of distrust between the public and its political leadership that had not been felt since the fall of Chamberlain’s government.107 The Mirror questioned, ‘Where is Parliament these days? The nation has a right to the truth concerning this lamentable fiasco which suggests that we are still in the stage of gross miscalculation, muddled dash and hasty withdrawal, wishful thinking and half-measures’.108 The War Cabinet was correct in concluding that operations at Dakar had adversely affected British prestige. For de Gaulle, the consequence of Dakar was that it demonstrated the limitations of his power. The symbolic significance of the Free French movement did not disguise its reliance on British resources. Rhetoric that attempted to justify the withdrawals by citing altruistic or humanitarian factors flew in the face of understandings of war rooted in hard work, sacrifice, and commitment. When planning for the bombardments at Mers el-Kébir, we know that the War Cabinet put together press releases, which prepared for a number of possible outcomes. Prior to the Dakar excursion, neither 103 104 105 106 107 108

Home Press Summaries, 25 September 1940, ADM 1/10321, TNA. O’Donovan, The Just War Revisited, 4. Ibid., 19. John Colville, Wartime Diaries, 27 September 1940, CLVL 1/3, CCAC. Our own correspondent, ‘Americans on Dakar Adventure’, The Times, 27 September 1940, 4. Home Press Summaries, 27 September 1940, ADM 1/10321, TNA.

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Carlton Gardens nor the MOI sufficiently considered or anticipated the likelihood that it could end in failure. And it quickly became impossible to convince the British public and mass media that withdrawing from Dakar rather than pursuing the fight was the correct choice. Churchill’s popularity suffered in the wake of the Dakar operations. This was partly due to the disappointment caused by a military loss and partly to the feeling that, with the advent of German bombing, civilians were also intimately involved in the outcome of the war. A censor observed ‘Whereas in June people seemed to feel that only Churchill stood between them and disaster, now the ordinary people of England have shown that they too could play just as stubborn and important a part’.109 The Dakar operations were the first time that Vichy and Free French forces had faced each other directly. They brought to the fore arguments over who truly represented French interests and France itself. Each side reached for its own definition of national identity, which it used to discredit its opponent. De Gaulle still relied on British resources for much of his publicity. In late July, the British government had employed Richmond Temple to raise the profile of the Free French movement in Britain and abroad. This included the publication of a manifesto, which explicitly discredited Pétain’s ‘makeshift’ French government.110 Radio transmissions from the BBC Daventry transmitter in Britain to France reminded listeners that de Gaulle was (in an allegorical sense) the grandson of Marshal Foch. The Dakar authorities, on the other hand, were weak men who had resorted to collaborating with the original thieves of Alsace Lorraine.111 The broadcasts argued that the majority of Dakar’s population was resolved to rally to the Free French cause. It was only German and Italian infiltration that forced Vichy to stop pro-Allied elements from acting.112 Although still critical of the Dakar operations, the British press continued to stress the illegitimacy of the Vichy government, and its alienation from the rest of the nation. Vichy, argued one article, was ‘helpless’ and totally under Hitler’s control, largely deluded into thinking that by acting submissively, it would gain real concessions.113 Vichy communiqués employed by now familiar themes. As after Mers el-Kébir, France and the French government were the victims of British aggressions. France, one Vichy wireless report argued, ‘is the victim of a fresh aggression on the part of England. The cowardly and bloody attack at Mers el Kébir (Oran) 109 110 111 112 113

‘Dakar and de Gaulle’, 14 October–21 October 1940, INF 1/292, TNA. ‘To All Frenchmen’, 3 August 1940, FO 892/24, TNA. Daventry, ‘Honneur et Patrie Voice la France Libre’, 25 September 1940, 10GMII/338, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (henceforth MAE). ‘Daventry en Français, Situation à Dakar’, 26 September 1940, 10GMII/338, MAE. ‘The French Empire’, The Guardian, 26 September 1940, 4.

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is being repeated at Dakar’.114 Vichy propaganda posters portrayed the violence at Mers el-Kébir and Dakar side-by-side asking, ‘where else will Britain spill French blood?’115 Debates over legitimacy and how the Franco-British relationship fit into the post-armistice environment were central to how British, Vichy and Free French officials explained the clashes at Dakar. William Hitchcock has argued that one of the questions that was fundamental to Vichy’s existence was whether it could credibly claim to be pursuing the nation’s best interests while simultaneously defying its allies.116 Its alleged position as the sole representative of French interests tied it to defending the Franco-German armistice and to planning France’s future in a Europe dominated by Germany. Relying on its imperial territories to confer power and legitimacy committed Vichy to condemning the clashes at Mers el-Kébir and Dakar and publicly quashing the notion of Franco-British cooperation. Unlike British and Free French statements that had tried to downplay Britain’s role in the operations, Vichy’s response ignored the Free French entirely. Vichy’s refusal to associate the Dakar operation with the Free French was not lost on the British press, which pointed out, ‘It would appear that Vichy describes all the actions of General de Gaulle and his forces as British’.117 Although Vichy was simultaneously responding to a Japanese ultimatum over Indo China, news concerning Dakar dominated much of the press. On the evening of 23 September, Foreign Minister Paul Baudouin met with representatives of the French and foreign press to inform them of Franco-Japanese negotiations and the British treachery at Dakar.118 Talking points sent from Vichy to its diplomatic personnel overseas described the aggression that the British government had committed against French possessions. Britain and ‘l’ex-général de Gaulle’ were using force to gain what they could not get through honest means.119 This theme was rife throughout the French press. In Le Temps every news story that dealt with the event carried a title depicting L’Agression Anglaise, L’Agression Britannique, or L’Escadre Britannique.120 L’Echo d’Alger took the same approach. 114 115 116 117 118 119 120

‘Bitterness of Vichy: The Dakar Action’, The Guardian, 27 September 1940, 2. Ginio, French Colonialism, 16. William I. Hitchcock, ‘Pierre Boisson, French West Africa, and the Postwar Epuration: A Case from the Aix Files’, French Historical Studies 24, no. 2 (2001): 306. ‘Dakar Forts Fire on Free French Warships’, The Guardian, 25 September 1940, 5. Paul Baudouin, The Private Diaries of Paul Baudouin: March 1940–January 1941, trans. Sir Charles Petrie (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1948), 247. Télégramme au départ, de Vichy, 24 September 1940, 10GMII/338, MAE. ‘Une escadre Anglaise ouvre le feu sur Dakar après avoir adressé un ultimatum aux autorités Françaises’, Le Temps, 25 September 1940, 1. ‘L’agression Anglaise contre Dakar’, Le Temps, 27 September 1940, 1. ‘Dernières nouvelles, l’agression Britannique contre Dakar’, Le Temps, 27 September 1940, 2.

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Not a single story acknowledged Free France or the French elements of the operation. Moreover, although these stories were published under slightly different headlines, the body of text was often identical. Vichy, through the Service de la Propagande and Service d’Information Presse et Censure, was able to choose what was printed. This allowed it to maintain rhetorical consistency across the press. Still, Vichy could not entirely ignore that it was de Gaulle, a French general, who had delivered the ultimatum to Pierre Boisson. Just as British rhetoric wrote off Pétain’s government as a few misguided and unrepresentative individuals, Vichy described de Gaulle as a solitary figure, whose policies amongst Frenchmen were unpopular. The ultimatum was transformed into a British attempt to dismember the French empire.121 This approach allowed Vichy to acknowledge that de Gaulle was ‘leading’ the operation in name, but only as a British pawn. L’Echo d’Alger wrote that de Gaulle had decided to terminate ‘the English attack against Dakar’.122 By depicting Menace as an escalation of Mers el-Kébir, Vichy distanced the operation from de Gaulle and his competing claim of Frenchness. This reasserted the right of the French nation to self-defence in the face of ‘a British desire for French property’.123 Cablegrams reinforced this argument and were published in both the French and British press. Pétain’s cable to Boisson, sent as the operation progressed, emphasised the emotive and moral aspects of the struggle: ‘France is following with emotion and confidence your resistance to mercenary treason and British aggression’.124 Less than two months later, Vice Premier Pierre Laval would continue this line of reasoning when he blamed Britain for letting France down during the war, for the ‘treachery’ of Mers el-Kébir and Dakar and for ‘their continued backing of the “traitor de Gaulle”’.125 What made Vichy policy especially difficult was that it often attempted to navigate towards two incompatible aims. On the one hand, officials wanted to balance Anglo-Vichy relations somewhere between an ally and an enemy. The Vichy government would not be able to defend its colonial empire, the cornerstone of its legitimacy, from a sustained British attack. Vichy, therefore, wanted to be able to control any escalations in 121 122 123 124 125

‘L’agression Britannique contre Dakar’, Le Temps, 26 September 1940, 1. ‘Les Anglais ont abandonné Dakar’, L’Echo d’Alger, 26 September 1940, 1. Our Special Correspondent, ‘Vichy’s “Blow for Blow”’, The Times, 24 September 1940, 4. ‘More Vichy Reports’, The Guardian, 25 September 1940, 2. The Chargé in France (Matthews) to the Secretary of State, 14 November 1940, Document 479, Foreign Relations of the United States Diplomatic Papers (henceforth FRUS).

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Franco-British tensions. At the same time, it pursued policies that would drive a wedge between Britain and the Free French. Representing Vichy as the victor at Dakar added fuel to its claim to represent popular French sentiment. Vichy officials hoped that the British government would eventually abandon the Free French movement for being ineffectual. On the other hand, Vichy saw the attacks as an opportunity to gain concessions from the German authorities. In September, Vichy asked German officials to release armistice restrictions on the French army in Africa to allow it to reconquer territory in AEF and even expand into British territory.126 Vichy spokesmen cited Vichy’s resistance at Dakar and Mers el-Kébir to demonstrate French adherence to the armistice and to demand that France be given a free hand to defend its empire.127 However, Vichy’s proposals to regain its lost colonies must be understood in their wider context.128 The armistice left Vichy in a constant state of uncertainty. The viability of any schemes was restricted by the British blockade and Vichy’s own military limitations, which would have required substantial German concessions to overcome. Ultimately, the Vichy government needed peace, not further conflict, to shore up its legitimacy at home and abroad. It is, therefore, unsurprising that a principle aim of Vichy’s talks with the German authorities was to convince them to issue a statement guaranteeing that the French Empire would remain French after the peace.129 After all, Vichy’s legitimacy was rooted in its empire. This meant that it had to protect its territories from both Allied and Axis forces. A report issued by Baudouin’s office at the Foreign Ministry showed that Vichy decision-makers recognised the need to balance relations between Britain and Germany. The report’s title was edited to showcase Vichy’s power, rather than its victimhood: ‘Conséquences de l’agression la victoire de Dakar’. It argued that resistance at Dakar could lead to German concessions. But it emphasised the importance of not becoming trapped in a cycle of retaliation that would make them allies of Germany and Italy without any of the real advantages normally accrued in such a partnership.130 In fact, it was speculated that the Dakar episode would 126 127 128

129 130

Paxton, Old Guard, 78. Ibid., 68. For details on Vichy’s plans to reconquer territory lost to the Free French, see Paxton, Old Guard, Part I. For the perceived threat of Vichy invasions in Free French territory see Kim Munholland, ‘The Trials of the Free French in New Caledonia, 1940–1942’, French Historical Studies 14, no. 4 (1986): 554, 570 and Jennings, Free French Africa, Chapter 3. Paxton, Old Guard, 80. ‘Conséquences de l’agression la victoire de Dakar’, 26 September 1940, 10GMII/338, MAE.

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bring Britain and France closer together by encouraging the British government to stop supporting the Gaullist movement.131 Intelligence reports from the French Foreign Ministry emphasised that de Gaulle was not the obvious British choice for a Free French leader and that his movement did not have complete freedom.132 Vichy was also gathering intelligence from servicemen who had been repatriated to the metropole. Many of them cast doubt on the popularity of de Gaulle’s movement among the British public. These reports estimated the strength of the movement at only 5,000 members in mid-September.133 Interviews carried out from 16 September concluded that an influential contingent of British opinion was hostile to the Free French.134 A 24 September report suggested that Menace was not an attack against the Vichy government, but rather, an effort to continue the war against Germany and Italy. It also identified the real threat that German forces would use Anglo-Free French operations as a pretext for occupying the Free Zone and French North Africa.135 By the end of the year, the Vichy Cabinet had adopted a policy of resistance against further Gaullist expansion, rather than trying to actively roll back their gains.136 There was thus a sharp contrast between the unwavering condemnation of the Vichy press and the more pragmatic analysis that continued behind closed doors. Rhetoric allowed Vichy to craft its own narrative of the new status quo and to disguise the more complex reality of its relationship between the occupying powers and its former ally. But this balance was not an easy one to sustain. On the other hand, de Gaulle was determined to take ownership of the operation to demonstrate his own initiative and the autonomy of the Free French movement. Press releases issued by his office (or by Richmond Temple) disassociated Britain as much as possible from the expedition. British officials also supported this approach. Churchill’s 8 October Commons address described the events at Dakar as ‘primarily French’. He defended de Gaulle’s claims that the majority of Frenchmen in Dakar were naturally inclined towards the Free French cause but were unable to act freely, being ‘employed as the tool of German and Italian 131 132 133

134 135 136

Ibid. ‘Renseignement Angleterre, officier Français rapatrié d’Angleterre’, 17 September 1940, 9GMII/295, MAE. ‘Renseignement, Angleterre, Source: Officier français rapatrié d’Angleterre’, 17 September–16 October 1940, 3P102, Dossier 3, Service Historique de la Défense (henceforth SHD). Ibid. ‘Grande-Bretagne, évènements de Dakar, 23–25 Septembre 1940’, 24 September 1940, 10GMII 338, MAE. Paxton, Old Guard, 87.

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masters’.137 Publicly supporting de Gaulle’s justifications avoided having to explain how British intelligence failed to anticipate such high levels of resistance, or why planners chose to ignore these warnings. Despite Churchill’s evident willingness to defend de Gaulle, the relationship between his government and the Free French was not straightforward. We know that Free French and British rhetoric attributed the operation to de Gaulle’s movement. This was a way to strengthen the credibility of the movement and distance Britain from images of imperial rivalry. British policy-makers wanted to cultivate pro-Gaullist sentiment in metropolitan France. But they were also committed to promoting proBritish sentiment. At the time of Menace, decision-makers in London believed that French public opinion was becoming more pro-British. Although the failure of the operation might have reversed this trend, the War Cabinet remained optimistic. It was believed that French selfconfidence could be strengthened and that this would translate into proBritish sentiment.138 Churchill informed Roosevelt, ‘in spite of the Dakar fiasco the Vichy Government is endeavouring to enter into relations with us which shows how the tides are flowing in France now that they feel the German weight and see we are able to hold our own’.139 It is easy to believe that Churchill exaggerated Vichy’s growing confidence in Britain in order to encourage Roosevelt’s support. But the Foreign Office made similar speculations regarding opinion in Vichy as early as 18 September. Intelligence reports concluded that the French population was slowly beginning to believe that only a British victory could save France.140 In mid-December, a Foreign Office telegram destined for Rio de Janeiro noted that Britain’s success in prosecuting the war against Germany had made the Vichy government more willing to resist German and Italian demands.141 The Foreign Office continued to monitor opinion in mainland France throughout the war. It paid close attention to the popularity of the Pétain government, and above all, Pétain himself. The far from universal popularity of the Free French movement within France meant that continuing to cultivate popular support for the British war effort was not always compatible with the Anglo-Gaullist relationship. 137 138 139 140 141

Hansard HC Deb vol. 365 col. 300 (8 October 1940) http://hansard.millbanksystems.com/commons/1940/oct/08/war-situation. W.M. (40) 259th Conclusions Minute 2, Confidential Annex, 26 September 1940, CAB 65/15/11, TNA. Churchill to Roosevelt, 4 October 1940, CHAR 2/399, CCAC. Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 18 September 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA. Foreign Office to Sir G. Knox (Rio de Janeiro), 18 December 1940, FO 954/8A/135, TNA.

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Relations between metropolitan France and Britain, as between Britain and de Gaulle, also remained complicated. Neither Britain nor Vichy wished to isolate the other completely, and in fact, both sides attempted, to varying extents, to diminish de Gaulle’s ability to manoeuvre politically. British Foreign Office intelligence shortly after Menace reported ‘a recognised Anglophil [sic] movement in Metropolitan France as well as in the empire’.142 As a dissident movement, de Gaulle and the Free French remained reliant upon the British, a status quo that limited his ability to manoeuvre freely. On the other hand, British officials found their abilities to publicly criticise de Gaulle curtailed. Doing so could undermine their own wartime narrative, in which continuing Franco-British cooperation played a central role. This reliance would also become a source of growing tension between these professed allies. Indeed, having already been forced to swallow the British actions at Mers el-Kébir, the unplanned withdrawals from Dakar left de Gaulle with even less influence amongst his British backers. Commenting on the outcome of the Dakar operations and de Gaulle’s lack of popularity, Robert Vansittart wrote late in December that the Free French leader could not hope to improve upon his current position if he ‘continues to make the mistakes he is doing now’.143 Conclusion Hervé Coutau-Bégarie and Claude Huan have pointed out that Operation Menace never had much chance of success in the face of symbolic, but very real resistance.144 Their assessment brings to life the significance of empire as both a strategic and symbolic asset within the wider conflict. The rhetoric that emerged in response to the Anglo-Free French operations at Dakar was a product of military limitations and political manoeuvring on all sides. It reflected the distinct wartime narratives that British, Vichy and Free French leaders were constructing and the difficulty of sustaining those narratives in the midst of a constantly changing wartime environment. In the British metropole, the mass media was highly critical of the lack of planning leading up to the invasions and the decision not to follow through with the occupation. Calling for parliamentary explanations, these criticisms demonstrated that de Gaulle’s Free French movement 142 143 144

Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 2 October 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA. Robert Vansittart to Anthony Eden, 31 December 1940, FO 954/8A/136, TNA. Hervé Coutau-Bégarie and Claude Huan, Dakar 1940 La Bataille Fratricide (Paris: Economica, 2004), 231.

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was simply not viewed as an independent actor by the British public and press. We know that de Gaulle relied upon the British for financial support, military backing and much of his early publicity. It is now possible to conclude that de Gaulle’s movement also lacked legitimacy on a more fundamental level. In other words, the movement’s shortage of material assets contributed to its absence of political capital. Churchill was able to largely resist calls for a parliamentary enquiry into the affair. But allocating blame was still viewed as a way to relieve public pressure. Somerville wrote to Admiral North on 26 September following a BBC bulletin discussing the French ships that had been allowed through the Strait of Gibraltar, ‘I wonder if they will try and make me a scapegoat for this blob’.145 But it was North who was dismissed. Afterwards, Admiral Cunningham made it clear that he interpreted the move as an attempt to sweep the debacle under the rug. ‘Of course much as I admire W.C. he is thoroughly dishonest and always has been’.146 Operation Menace was a British-led event wearing a Free French mask and not a very convincing one at that. The manner in which the withdrawal from Dakar was represented in British, Free French and Vichy rhetoric betrayed the complex and delicately balanced relationships between the three actors. The British may have thought that the Free French nature of the event, at least in rhetorical terms, would avert criticism from themselves in case of failure, and even give them increased scope to limit de Gaulle’s decision-making capabilities. The reality was more complicated. Both British press correspondents and Vichy official and mass media responses emphasised the overwhelming British role. Vichy was careful to avoid mention of the Free French movement more generally and focussed instead upon the traitorous ex-general de Gaulle. Perhaps most evident, however, was the conflict over French sovereignty. Here, Britain attempted to balance its public support for de Gaulle with its desire to cultivate broader pro-British sentiment within the French metropole. Vichy tried to position itself somewhere between Britain and Germany. And de Gaulle and Vichy fought outright over which of them spoke for the legitimate French nation. The setting for these struggles was overwhelmingly imperial. Britain found itself in a difficult position. It was forced to be rhetorically supportive of de Gaulle and the Free French movement more generally. At the same time, it continued to maintain at least a sliver of hope that Vichy would limit or renege entirely on its agreement with Germany. As for Vichy, it opted to describe the Free French movement, its leader and its adherents as 145 146

Somerville to North, 26 September 1940, NRTH 2/8, CCAC. Dudley North, Letters/Correspondence, 5 November 1940, NRTH 2/3, CCAC.

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traitors, Jews and foreigners, thus positioning itself and its empire as the only true representatives of France.147 The conflicts over French sovereignty would become even more convoluted in the years to come as each side encountered new pressures and competing demands. American pressure would force Britain to allow relief aid to reach unoccupied France. Vichy would be confronted with increasing German demands for manpower and materials – in the metropole and in its colonial territories. And the influence of the United States would become decisive after it entered the war as a co-belligerent in December 1941.

147

The Chargé in France (Matthews) to the Secretary of State, 14 November 1940, FRUS.

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5

Promises of Independence Operation Exporter and the Struggle for the Levant

The French mandate states of Syria and Lebanon were one of the most contentious imperial battlefields of the Second World War. Here, adding to the bitter Franco-British arguments, rhetorical skirmishes pitched the voices and interests of French governors (actual and potential), against local nationalist opponents for the first time. The collapse of France had brought empire to the fore of both French and British policies. But neither imperial protagonist had given much thought to the local populations of the territories involved.1 All of this changed in 1941. The Levant states played an important role in Franco-British policy, rhetorically and strategically. Their position, as emblematic of continuing French imperial power or, alternatively, evidence of Vichy’s craven submission to Axis demands, had been a source of speculation from the moment of the French defeat. War Office intelligence in July of 1940 stressed the strategic value of the Levant and the importance of making sure it remained friendly towards Britain.2 However, it was not until spring 1941 that plans were made for an actual military operation in the area. These plans culminated in the 8 June invasion by British imperial and Free French Forces as part of Operation Exporter. Unlike earlier colonial confrontations involving the French fleet in North Africa and the strategic port of Dakar, Exporter was a protracted military engagement. It lasted from 8 June to 14 July 1941. This made it impossible for policy-makers to withhold news from the press until its conclusion. The War Cabinet and Chiefs of Staff (COS) were aware that public opinion was calling for decisive action to combat German infiltration in the region. This affected how Exporter was planned and publicised. After the public backlash that had followed the Dakar operations, success was essential to avoid further damaging British prestige. 1 2

A. B. Gaunson, The Anglo-French Clash in Lebanon and Syria, 1940–1945 (London: The Macmillan Press Ltd., 1987), 1. Chiefs of Staff Report, 22 July 1940, WO 32/11434, The National Archives (henceforth TNA).

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Failure would also have wider regional repercussions than those suffered at Dakar. Early official communiqués promised a swift victory; however, sustained resistance from Vichy forces dispelled these predictions. At the same time, British rhetoric had to counter Vichy and German accusations of imperial expansion. Nazi propaganda depicted Hitler’s Germany as the only nation that could be relied upon to grant independence to the Levant. British participation, it argued, was motivated solely by the desire to win a broader struggle for imperial supremacy in the Arab world. The strength of nationalist demands in the Levant impacted British and Free French rhetorical strategies in several ways. De Gaulle’s wartime narrative had, up to this point, promised to liberate France and the French Empire from Nazi domination. In the Levant, the Gaullist administration was confronted with well-established nationalist demands for the first time. This meant that de Gaulle, and de Gaulle’s choice for Delegate General to the Levant, General Georges Catroux, had to establish the legitimacy of the Free French movement on a different basis. They had to present themselves as liberators, but also as guarantors of Levantine independence. The result was that Gaullist rhetoric alternately celebrated France’s historic claims in the Levant and proclaimed that Free France recognised the sovereignty and independence of the two states. De Gaulle’s policy towards the Levant was to establish an interim Free French administration, which would retain office in wartime and later preside over Syria and Lebanon’s transition to independence. Part of this process would be to negotiate a series of preferential treaties preserving France’s historic influence. Officially, the British supported this plan. However, British officials soon discovered that their policies towards the French Levant also resonated more widely. On the one hand, nationalist groups in Syria and Lebanon placed Britain under pressure to ensure that de Gaulle and Catroux’s promises of self-governance and independence were carried out. Britain’s presence in the Levant was interpreted as an alternative – and a potential escape – from French rule. On the other hand, demands for independence in the Levant were also being watched closely by Arab nationalists in Palestine, Iraq and Egypt many of who had similar ambitions.3 As William Roger Louis has pointed out, ‘The issue of independence in the Levant became a test case of whether or not the British would fulfil their wartime promises’.4 In response to

3 4

Eugene Rogan, The Arabs, A History (London: Penguin Books, 2012), 303. Wm. Roger Louis, The British Empire in the Middle East 1945–51: Arab Nationalism, the United States and Postwar Imperialism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984), 124.

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these wider regional tensions, the Foreign Office chose to carve a middle line. It refused to commit to a precise timeline or method regarding the transition from French rule to formal independence. It chose instead to mould Britain into the figure of arbiter extraordinaire. Casting Britain as a neutral observer in the Levant, it was hoped, would allow it to distance itself from controversial French policies. But as Vichy’s colonial power waned with the loss of its toehold in the Levant, Britain found itself with a new Middle Eastern imperial rival in the shape of a fiercely independent Free French administration in Beirut. The Middle East rapidly became the regional crucible in which Anglo-Gaullist tension was most severe. Tensions were aggravated by material imbalances – British and Imperial ground forces far outnumbered Catroux’s resources. And under the direction of General Henry Maitland-Wilson, British forces were also more successful in attracting the support of the local Syrian population. The British desire to consolidate American backing, coupled with their continuing distrust of the Free French, aggravated Anglo-Gaullist relations even further.5 The Anglo-Free French occupation of the Levant brought to the fore rhetorical battles, which, unique to this setting and previous operations, attempted to mobilise the support of a local population already deeply engaged in its own nationalist struggle. They did so by promising to grant independence to Syria and Lebanon. However, these promises were impacted by deeply rooted histories of Franco-British regional rivalry and Britain’s own territorial interests. French forces would accuse Britain of using Arab nationalism ‘as a pretext and means to oust us from Syria’.6 And even if British political and military leaders were willing to acquiesce to Free French desires for continued influence in the Levant, the reality and strength of nationalist movements such as the Syrian People’s Party (founded by nationalist leader Dr Abd al-Rahman Shahbander in 1925) limited their ability to manoeuvre following the invasion. If Britain was to continue to enjoy the regional benefits granted it through preferential treaties with Iraq and Egypt, it had to maintain its credibility throughout dealings with the Levant. This meant upholding the rhetoric of independence, even if the Free French were reluctant to turn this rhetoric into a reality.

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6

Following Dakar operations, Roosevelt had requested that Churchill refrain from sharing information concerning military operations with the French. Henri de Wailly, Syrie 1941, La Guerre Occultée Vichystes contre Gaullistes (Paris: Perrin, 2006), 415. Susan Pedersen, The Guardians: The League of Nations and the Crisis of Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 166.

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Historic Rights and Ruling Practices in the French Levant Free French policy in the Levant was rooted in well-established mindsets and practices.7 France had a long history of responding to nationalist opposition in the Levant with violence. James Gelvin has argued that shifts in the organisation of traditional political structures in the Levant made mass politics following the First World War not only possible but also inevitable.8 Interwar uprisings against the French mandate authority demonstrated the weakness and apparent illegitimacy of French imperial control. French authorities relied on military force to manage the political and social turmoil that bubbled just below the surface.9 However, interwar nationalist sentiment was neither completely unified nor consistent in its demands. In both Levant states, interwar nationalism was highly factionalised.10 D. K. Fieldhouse has argued that the French retained control of the Levant for as long as they did because they were able to compromise with local notables. As long as these notables were willing to participate in this arrangement, the regime stayed in power.11 Mount Lebanon, the home of the Maronite Christian minority and the vast majority of French cultural and educational institutions, historically supported a continued French presence. Missionary orders such as the Society of Jesus played an important role in propping up French political control.12 Syria also had a large Christian population, but it did not have significant ties with France. In this instance, social divisions made it difficult to form a united nationalist agenda. Syrian society was fragmented into a number of hostile minority populations, including the Alawites in the North and the Druzes in the South.13 While the former practiced 7 8

9

10 11 12 13

The history of Syrian and Lebanese nationalism and of French and British policy in the Middle East is developed in greater detail in Chapter 7. James L. Gelvin, Divided Loyalties: Nationalism and Mass Politics in Syria at the Close of Empire (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 9. Erez Manela also highlights the significance of Wilsonian rhetoric as a tool wielded by anti-imperial nationalists to make their own claims. Erez Manela, The Wilsonian Moment: SelfDetermination and the International Origins of Anticolonial Nationalism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). Martin Thomas, ‘French Intelligence-Gathering in the Syrian Mandate, 1920–40’, Middle Eastern Studies 38, no. 1 (2002): 1. Martin Thomas, The French Empire between the Wars: Imperialism, Politics and Society (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2005), Chapter 7. Martin Thomas, ‘French Intelligence-Gathering’, 1. D. K. Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism in the Middle East: 1914–1958 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 245. Jennifer M. Dueck, ‘The Middle East and North Africa in the Imperial and PostColonial Historiography of France’, The Historical Journal 50, no. 4 (2007): 947. Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 252.

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a variation of Shiite Islam, the latter were an endogamous community whose religion drew from ‘an eclectic mix of Islamic, Christian, Greek, and pagan concepts’.14 Any successful treaty would also have to protect this blend of religious minorities from domination by the Sunni Muslim population. In Syria, the French created a federal system comprised of four ‘states’, which took advantage of divisions amongst minority groups to suppress a coherent nationalism.15 The traditional ruling class in Syria was made up of clans of notables that had traditionally benefited from a system of ‘honourable co-operation’ with the French. As a result, there were different ‘shades of nationalism’ amongst the notables, whose primary aim was to maintain their own positions as a class of wealthy and powerful landowners.16 As a mandatory power installed after the Great War, France faced growing discontent from Syrian nationalists. The outcome was the 1925 Druze revolt, which General Maurice Gamelin subdued by repeatedly shelling Damascus. These uprisings also stoked long-standing FrancoBritish imperial tensions. French suspicions were nurtured by allegations that the British had offered rebel factions arms and refuge. French administrators who were involved in the Levant in 1941 had often cut their teeth in these interwar clashes. General Catroux had served in 1921 as then High Commissioner General Henri Gouraud’s representative in Damascus. Afterwards, he headed the Mandate’s influential military intelligence Service de Renseignements. The man who later became the Vichy High Commissioner in the Levant, General Henri Fernand Dentz, had succeeded Catroux as the chief of military intelligence during this period. From then on, he harboured deep suspicions of British intentions. Free French expectations also reflected previous experiences, in which French supremacy was repeatedly confirmed even in the wake of its violent policies. Despite widespread local and international condemnation of French atrocities during the interwar unrest, the League of Nations Permanent Mandates Commission (PMC) agreed to uphold French authority. It asked France to issue a rhetorical commitment to League ideals, even if the events confirmed French illegitimacy in the eyes of the local population.17 In 1936, by which time French expenditures on the mandate were estimated to be 4 billion francs, negotiations for

14 15 16 17

Ibid., 256. Ibid. Ibid., 302. Pedersen, The Guardians, 160.

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independence were opened under Léon Blum’s socialist-led coalition.18 Blum’s Popular Front government eventually signed a Treaty of Independence in December of that year. But the French National Assembly refused to ratify it before the war broke out in 1939. In 1941, the issue of independence resurfaced, again becoming a major source of friction. This time, however, the British tied themselves publicly to the eventuality of a self-governing state or states, as a Syrian and Lebanese union had not yet been ruled out.19 The conflict remained subject to the unending Middle Eastern rivalries between France and Britain. But the opinions of the local populations in Syria and Lebanon – as well as the violence they had experienced at the hands of two occupation regimes – distinguished the Syrian crisis from previous sites of conflict in the French Empire.20 Planning Operation Exporter: Means and Motivations Ashley Jackson has described the Mediterranean and Middle East as the ‘Empire’s central front’.21 Italian incursions into Egypt and Greece, the importance of the Suez Canal and the threat of German forces blocking access to oil supplies in Iraq and Iran made protecting this region paramount for strategic and economic reasons. German domination in the Balkan Peninsula and Italian threats to British shipping between Suez and India led to fears that Gibraltar and Suez would be seized by the Axis powers. This would obliterate the Allied foothold in the Middle East.22 For Britain, the Middle East was also its last bastion against total dependence on American assistance. Retaining influence here would allow Britain to shore up its post-war authority on a more global level.23 In this context, the Levant states, always the vital strategic pivot in the Middle East, became a military and a rhetorical battleground. Here, more than ever, the complexity of relations between Gaullist and British forces at military, political and cultural levels was impossible to separate. Each sphere impacted how military operations and political decisions were planned, carried out and justified in the years between 1941 and 1945.

18 19 20 21 22 23

Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 252. Philip S. Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate, The Politics of Arab Nationalism 1920– 1945 (London: I. B. Tauris, 1987), 583. The nature and timing of nationalist demands will be assessed in greater detail in Chapter 7. Ashley Jackson, The British Empire and the Second World War (London: Hambledon Continuum, 2006), 97. Richard Overy, Why the Allies Won (London: Pimlico, 2006), 16. John Darwin, The Empire Project: The Rise and Fall of the British World System, 1830– 1970 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 523–524.

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At a strategic level, the War Cabinet agreed that having local support in the Levant and the broader Middle East region was paramount. Ensuring regional tranquillity meant that vital sources of manpower could be allocated more efficiently to engage with German or Italian forces. However, British and Gaullist factions could not agree on how to respond to nationalist demands in both Levant states. Neither Britain nor the Free French were strangers to these kinds of demands, and they recognised the regional instability that could result from them. During the interwar years, anti-imperial sentiment in the Levant and other Middle Eastern mandated territories like British Palestine was an almost constant source of instability. These experiences, however, fostered two different approaches to policy-making. The French remained reluctant to relinquish influence, and there was a particular desire to preserve the cultural institutions it had introduced. French links to Lebanon were rooted in historical claims made by the Catholic Church to protect the Levant’s Maronite Christian and other ethnic minority populations. French Catholic schools and missions in Syria were a way to spread French ‘civilisation’.24 These attachments were deeply cultural and highly emotive. On the other hand, British priorities were to protect its strategic and economic interests even if this meant relinquishing political influence.25 British decision-makers wanted to cultivate a broad base of regional support that would protect its interests. And the Foreign Office feared that ‘… too close an identification with France’s anti-nationalist and pro-Christian policy could seriously jeopardize Britain’s standing in the Muslim world’.26 These contrasting approaches to Mandate governance fostered Franco-British tensions between the two world wars. And they laid the groundwork for tensions to re-emerge in 1941. When the war broke out in 1939, the strategic significance of the Levant was never in question. Immediately following the French collapse in June 1940, the COS emphasised the importance of maintaining sympathy for the British cause in Syria and Lebanon. At this point, they preferred to preserve the status quo rather than become embroiled in costly military operations.27 On 10 July, the French High Commissioner in Beirut, Gabriel Puaux, warned the Ministry of Foreign Affairs that a British blockade could set off a Syrian and Lebanese revolt.28 French 24 25 26 27 28

Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 247. Aviel Roshwald, Estranged Bedfellows: Britain and France in the Middle East during the Second World War (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 6. Pedersen, The Guardians, 155. ‘Syria, Planning and Operations’, 22 July 1940, WO 32/11434, TNA. Martin Thomas, ‘Resource War, Civil War, Rights War: Factoring Empire into French North Africa’s Second World War’, War in History 18, no. 2 (2011): 230.

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news agency Havas speculated in mid-September that year that the situation in Syria was on the point of ‘boiling over’. It predicted that the French population would shortly rally to de Gaulle’s Free French. However, nothing came of these conjectures.29 By the end of the year, British hopes for continued Syrian resistance had also faded. High Commissioner Puaux had maintained a studied ambiguity, but his political star was fading. This fact was confirmed by a disappointing meeting that December between Syrian exiles and British diplomats.30 Shortly after, the hard line Vichyite General, Henri Fernand Dentz, replaced Puaux. His arrival snuffed out any residual hopes of a peaceful change at the top of the administrative tree. By early spring 1941, Syria’s formal neutrality and the regional status quo were being rapidly eroded. Germany was demanding transit rights, refuelling facilities and other strategic privileges. Admiral François Darlan, who by 17 February was serving as vice president of the Council, Navy Minister, Foreign Minister, Minister of Information and Minister of the Interior, seemed willing to acquiesce.31 In 1941, Darlan favoured a rapid peace that would give France the breathing room it needed to recover, consolidate and expand its empire. He was willing to grant limited German access to the French Empire in the hope of gaining public concessions that would shore up public opinion at home.32 However, as in 1940, Vichy’s ability to regain or expand upon its colonial territory was severely restricted. Its military capabilities remained limited. Any expansion was subject to German concessions, which, ultimately, were not forthcoming. The British War Cabinet, by this time, suspected that Vichy was actively collaborating with Germany’s occupation administration and its Armistice Commission envoys in North Africa. A series of low-level, but politically significant Anglo-Vichy armed clashes, only served to confirm

29 30

31 32

‘Syrie’, 14 September 1940, 9GMII/295, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (henceforth MAE). Sir Llewellyn Woodward, British Policy in the Second World War (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1962), 110. Stephen Hemsley Longrigg, Syria and Lebanon under French Mandate (New York: Octagon Books, 1972), 299. Yossi Olmert, ‘A False Dilemma? Syria and Lebanon’s Independence during the Mandatory Period’, Middle Eastern Studies 32 no. 3 (1996), 46. Darlan would add Minister of Defence to his portfolio on 11 August 1941. Later, in a 14 July 1941 note verbal, Darlan would propose normalising FrancoGerman relations. Germany would release France from the armistice terms, and this would give France a free hand to defend its territorial interests. German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop described the note as French blackmail. Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order 1940–1944 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972), 104–107.

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this belief. On 30 March, Royal Navy ships intercepted a convoy of four French merchant vessels off the coast of French North Africa. Vichy responded by firing at the British warships from coastal batteries and later initiating the aerial bombardment of Gibraltar from Tafaraoui.33 Two months later, naval tensions between Britain and Vichy peaked with the British bombardment of Axis shipping in the Tunisian port of Sfax. Turkey was also showing an interest in establishing a route through Syria in order to receive British supplies. Agreeing to arrange such a route with Syrian authorities was a tempting possibility in London. A formal AngloTurkish arrangement might be the prelude to Turkish entry into the war alongside the Allies – a prospect dangled but ultimately unfulfilled during Anglo-French-Turkish staff talks before the war began in 1939.34 However, the British were not prepared to use force in Syria to achieve this end.35 Their reluctance to push matters to the point of violent confrontation was only broken after German infiltration in Syria and Iraq persisted in spring 1941. Between April and May 1941, an anti-British coup broke out in Iraq. It was led by nationalist army officer Rashid Ali al-Gaylani and supported by German forces using Syrian aerodromes. This event became the primary catalyst, both strategically and rhetorically, for British action. In late April, General Archibald Wavell, Commander-in-Chief of the Middle East (until his replacement by General Claude Auchinleck on 21 June), received a telegram from Field Marshal Sir John Dill, Chief of the Imperial General Staff (CIGS). It warned of the danger of German involvement in Syria. It was imperative, Dill emphasised, to prepare a force to support French resistance to a possible German invasion.36 However, Vichy resistance against further German incursions in to Syria was unlikely. Darlan met with Hitler at Berchtesgaden in the Bavarian Alps on 11 May. There, he agreed to allow Germany the use of bases in Syria from where they would assist in the Iraqi revolt against British power.37 This agreement was the catalyst for British action. But Britain’s Middle East policy had to take into account a range of military and political factors. It had to 33 34

35 36

37

Martin Thomas, The French Empire at War: 1940–1945 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), 92. For more on Anglo-Turkish negotiations, see Martin Thomas, ‘Imperial Defence or Diversionary Attack? Anglo-French Strategic Planning in the Near East, 1936– 40’, in Anglo-French Defence Relations between the Wars, eds. Martin Alexander and William Philpott (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 157–185. ‘Syria, Planning and Operations’, 22 July 1940, WO 32/11434, TNA. CIGS to C in C Middle East, 27 April 1941, WO 32/11434, TNA; although Wavell was replaced 21 June, Auchinleck was not installed in Cairo until after the armistice negotiations. Paxton, Old Guard, 117.

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assess whether a military victory in the region was achievable and estimate how British operations in the Levant would impact British prestige in the region and also at home. At the same time, British decision-makers had to ensure that the Free French policy would complement rather than hinder its own aims. On the military side, Britain reacted quickly to the threat of German infiltration in to Syria. Wavell began drafting operational plans on 23 May. But Wavell, and other officials in the British service ministries, remained reluctant to collaborate militarily with de Gaulle and the Free French more generally. ‘I do not trust discretion of French generally. Though am sure de Gaulle himself entirely discreet’. [sic]38 Wavell was unconvinced of Free French abilities to successfully plan and carry out strategic operations. In a letter to Churchill, he wrote, ‘Previous experience has made me somewhat sceptical of information on Syria from Free French sources and Free French plans sometimes take little account of realities’.39 Wavell highlighted military factors, which he believed could impact the immediate outcome of a full-scale invasion of the Levant states. But his attitude also illustrated that a broader disdain for the Free French could still permeate strategic decision-making. At this juncture, Wavell was primarily concerned with drawing up plans for the opening days of the invasion. In reality, Exporter spanned a much longer timeframe. Unfolding over a period of weeks and months, it raised a number of additional preoccupations, which were distinct from immediate military or security concerns. Any military operation in the Levant would have serious political consequences, both for Britain and the Free French. The COS tried to anticipate how the operations would be received in the Levant, across the Middle East and at home in Britain. Working from their experiences in previous operations, policy-makers recognised that Exporter had to be successful on two levels. First, it had to achieve a military victory. Second, it had to win the hearts and minds of different, and sometimes disparate, constituencies of opinion. Churchill’s government had to convince Syrian and Lebanese nationalist groups and wider Middle East opinion that Britain’s role in the operations was driven by wartime expediency and emphatically not by imperial ambition. One way to do this was to position France, as represented by de Gaulle, as the legitimate administrator of the Levant – still, in other words, the tutelary mandate holder. This meant that British authorities had to convince local interest groups that the operations were Free French in nature. They 38 39

Wavell to CIGS, 23 May 1941, WO 32/11434, TNA. Cypher, Wavell to Churchill, 22 May 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA.

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were supported by British and Imperial forces but not led by them. This tactic, in addition to being a façade, would also complicate Britain’s position. Underwriting Free France’s status in the Levant made the British guarantors of French promises of independence – another commitment of the mandate holder. And this eventuality was already written into a treaty (the agreement signed in December 1936). Churchill’s seeming readiness to temporarily underwrite a veneer of Free French power in the Levant disguised the preeminent concern of British foreign policy: the conservation of remaining pro-British sentiment throughout the Arab world. Given the importance of upholding British prestige in the Middle East, London could not allow a Gaullist administration to simply replace the Vichy regime. Nationalist groups would interpret this as a blatant betrayal of both British and Free French promises of independence. Churchill in a 19 May note wrote regarding the approach to be taken in Syria: ‘We must have an Arab policy’.40 The prime minister went on to suggest that if the Vichy French army in Syria refused to join the Allies, Britain could claim that the mandate had lapsed. This, he argued, would generate pro-British sentiment amongst the Arabs, who would see British policy as a way to achieve independence. ‘The French have forfeited all rights in Syria since they quitted the League of Nations and we are entitled to argue that their Mandate has lapsed. Furthermore, none of our promises to de Gaulle cover mandated territories’.41 Britain’s eagerness to shore up in own influence in the Middle East impacted how its policies towards the Levant and the Free French there were conceptualised. Churchill’s key intelligence advisor, Major Desmond Morton, confided on 30 March, ‘The Chiefs of Staff have told my committee on more than one occasion that they would consider the rallying of Syria to our side a matter of high importance …’42 Edward Spears echoed this sentiment a few days later. On 10 April, in a note to Churchill, Spears speculated that, due to skilful German propaganda, local populations might have become substantially pro-German in orientation. He also emphasised that it was crucial to construct an image of Allied strength to encourage Syrians to join the Allies. This would, he argued, have a considerable effect on the opinion of several groups including the senior officers and men of the French fleet and would ‘tend to bridle Vichy’s pro-German tendencies’.43 40 41 42 43

‘Syrian Policy’, 19 May 1941, PREM 3/422/2, TNA. Ibid. Morton to Churchill, 30 March 1941, CAB 80/57, TNA. Major General Spears to Churchill, 10 April 1941, PREM 3/422/1, TNA.

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Adding to Britain’s concerns over Middle East opinion, policy-makers were also aware that a significant portion of the British public were in favour of action in the Levant. Home Intelligence Reports concluded that there was a widespread ‘critical attitude over our apparent inactivity towards Syria’.44 There was also increasing resentment towards metropolitan France. In February, Darlan had become vice president of the Council (essentially Premier) as well as Minister of Foreign Affairs, Minister of the Interior and Minister of National Defence. In Britain, his growing collaborationist tendencies had translated into increased support for the Free French. Free French press analyses celebrated 5 April as the first time that The Times had taken a clear position in favour of Free France.45 In early April, the British government continued to encourage the press to criticise Vichy and Darlan. But it advised that Pétain should not be directly condemned for fear of provoking a counter-reaction amongst French and American opinion, which continued to hold him in high esteem.46 By late May, Home Intelligence indicated a growing unwillingness amongst Britons to distinguish between the French people and the Vichy government. These sentiments were behind demands to declare France an enemy nation and seize Dakar and Syria.47 They also reinforced the COS conclusion that once begun, withdrawing from an attempt to capture the two Levant states was not an option. Political concerns regarding British prestige in the Middle East and public appeals for action in the Levant did not always go hand in hand with Wavell’s strategic calculations. As late as 4–5 June, he remained concerned over the likelihood of military success in Syria, calling the operation ‘a gamble’ and ‘problematical’.48 The Vice Chiefs of Staff, drawing directly on lessons from Dakar, suggested that increased air support would benefit the early stages of the operation. Their suggestions addressed military concerns but were also motivated by more political factors. Losses in the Levant, they argued, would ‘add to the severity of the blow to our position and prestige’.49 The determination to avoid another Dakar reinforced attitudes in the War Cabinet and amongst the COS that British officials must retain control over operational planning as well as the rhetoric surrounding the Levant. This meant that 44 45 46 47 48 49

Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 21–28 May 1941, INF 1/292, TNA. Télégramme, Francelib, 5 April 1941, AG/3(1)/257, Archives Nationales (henceforth AN). De Gaulle to Haute Commissaire Brazzaville, 5 April 1941, AG/3(1)/257, AN. Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 21–28 May 1941, INF 1/292, TNA. ‘Aide Memoire by Vice Chiefs of Staff’, 6 June 1941, CAB 80/57/58, TNA. Ibid. Cipher Telegram, War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 6 June 1941, WO 106/3073, TNA.

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policy-makers would prioritise fostering pro-British, rather than proAllied or pro-Gaullist sentiment in the Levant. In the weeks leading up to Exporter, the importance that Churchill, Spears and key advisors placed on elevating British prestige in the Levant and the Middle East was reflected in a series of official statements as well as the tone of the press. Unlike the operations at Mers el-Kébir, during which speculation surrounding the fate of the French fleet was suppressed, press reports in the weeks leading up to Exporter emphasised the threat of German infiltration in the region. This helped foster deeper popular antagonism towards Vichy and heightened calls for immediate action. Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden lent force to these early demands for invasion by highlighting German infiltration in the Levant. In mid-May, he made a highly publicised address in the House of Commons. He stressed American displeasure over the German use of aerodromes in Syria and warned that Britain could take military measures to curb the German threat. These warnings were duly noted in Vichy’s analyses of the British press.50 Eden’s statement on Syria was also broadcast to French listeners via the BBC. His words conjured up by now familiar images of French honour to emphasise the illegitimacy of the Vichy government. Vichy policy, according to Eden, was ‘contrary to the honour of France … against the wishes of the French people as a whole … opposed to French interests’.51 Eden also fostered regional Arab support in a 29 May speech at the Mansion House, in which he publicly backed the Arab Union project.52 Vichy officials noted with trepidation the burgeoning press coverage given to the Levant states in the weeks leading up to Exporter. The threat of British action was compounded by the worsening instability within the two mandates. Severe food shortages in Syria through 1941 had provoked strikes and demonstrations, contributing to a general sense of unrest in the region.53 Press reviews arriving in Vichy from the French Embassy in Dublin anticipated British attacks on the Levant states as early as 9 May. These analyses observed that the British press was speculating that Germany was planning to use Syria as a base for attacks on Suez and other strategic points in the Middle East. They highlighted the ‘sensational’ 50 51 52 53

Télégramme a l’arrivée de Laforcade, Dublin, 23 May 1941, 10GMII/332, MAE. ‘Le Temps’ 18 May 1941, 10GMII/342, MAE. Weekly Intake Reports on Broadcasts in French for French Listeners, 12–18 May 1941, ABMS 1/2/2, Churchill Archive Centre (henceforth CCAC). James Barr, A Line in the Sand: Britain, France and the Struggle that Shaped the Middle East (London: Simon & Schuster, 2011), 214. A. H. Hourani, Syria and Lebanon, A Political Essay (London: Oxford University Press, 1946), 235.

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rhetoric of the articles, a tactic, it was argued, which could goad the British government into taking preventative measures.54 Similarly, press bulletins in late May concluded that the British were treating the Levant as an enemy-occupied territory.55 Alarmed by these rhetorical escalations, Vichy tried to counter British claims and prove that any German interference in the region had long since ended. After British radio broadcasts asserted that Syria was entirely under German domination, Darlan instructed the French embassies in Washington and Madrid to inform their British counterparts that following Vichy requests, Germany had removed all war material from Syria.56 Vichy even tried to counter British rhetoric with its own imperial bluster. A French Information Office statement released in late May argued that the time had come for France to ‘recover especially in Africa the whole of her Empire’.57 In the final days of May, the focus of Britain’s Levant policy shifted to legal issues over the Mandate and the timeline for Syrian and Lebanese independence. These questions rapidly coalesced into sharper sources of friction between the British and Free French leadership. On 24 May, Catroux publicly backed British proclamations endorsing the early recognition of Levant state independence. De Gaulle resented this policy, not least because he did not believe Churchill’s repeated claims that the British had no interest in usurping the French in the Levant.58 His worries were not entirely ungrounded. There was a general consensus throughout the British government that it was not worth jeopardising British military interests in order to placate French sentiments. A 14 May cypher from the War Office had stated this position clearly: ‘You are certainly free to act against German aircraft in Syria and on French aerodromes irrespective of possible effects of such action on relations with Vichy and Free French’.59 Spears was also becoming suspicious of de Gaulle’s reticence. He feared the General would not give proper assurances of independence to Syria and that this would cause tension in the region and embarrassment to Britain. ‘The Arab question … as 54

55 56 57 58 59

Télégramme à l’arrivée, de Laforcade, Dublin, 9 May 1941, 10GMII/342, MAE. ‘Synthese des Évènements du 1er au 10 Juin 1941, Document de Travail Intérieur’, June 1941, 1P12, Dossier 1, Service Historique de la Défense (henceforth SHD). ‘Bulletin d’Information pour la Période allant du 27 Mai au 5 Juin 1941’, 28 May 1941, 1P12, Dossier 1, SHD. Télégramme au départ, Darlan to Washington and Madrid, 6 June 1941, 10GMII/342, MAE. The Ambassador in France (Leahy) to the Secretary of State, 20 May 1941, Document 138, Foreign Relations of the United States Diplomatic Papers [henceforth FRUS]. Thomas, French Empire, 106. De Wailly, Syrie 1941, 369. Cypher from War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 14 May 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA.

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de Gaulle should understand because of our paramount interest in the neighbouring countries’, he stressed, ‘is one we cannot afford to dispute’.60 Spears recognised that although there were two strands of opinion in the Levant (French and Arab), one was far more important than the other. ‘The former, once rallied is of little interest to us’.61 Spears wrote that if the British would guarantee Free French declarations of Syrian independence, this move ‘would do much to allay Arab hostility’.62 Arab support throughout the Middle East would, it was hoped, ease pressure on the British in their Palestinian mandate. De Gaulle’s conception of independence for the Levant had a different timeline and a different endgame from that envisaged by most local nationalist groups. His declarations promising independence were principally designed to quell any local resistance. His primary goal remained the revitalisation of the French nation. A crucial part of this recovery was France’s ability to maintain control over its formal empire and to conclude highly favourable treaties with its mandated territories.63 Such agreements would guarantee ‘the rights and special interests of France’.64 Because local nationalist sentiment in the Levant was implacably opposed to becoming part of France’s informal empire, this would place the British under mounting pressure to back up their own lofty promises of independence. In turn, Free French determination to negotiate a French withdrawal on its own terms widened the gap between British and French Middle East policies. After Exporter was launched on 8 June, Anglo-Free French tensions mounted. British strategic justifications and attempts to mobilise local support endangered what de Gaulle saw as French historical rights in the region. And as the two allies wrangled over the future of the Levant, Vichy found itself with a decidedly reduced claim to imperial sovereignty. Operation Exporter Begins and Independence Is Promised On 8 June, General Maitland-Wilson launched a two-pronged invasion through Lebanon and Iraq moving towards Beirut and Damascus. His task force comprised British and Imperial troops as well as Free French forces. Unlike the operations at Mers el-Kébir and Dakar, which were 60 61 62 63 64

Cypher, Spears to Churchill, 5 June 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA. Ibid. Spears to Spears Mission London, May 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA. Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate, 593. Draft Telegram, Lampson to Foreign Office, 6 June 1941, GB165-0269, Box 1A, MECA.

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concluded in a matter of days, Exporter lasted over a month and ended in Allied occupation. The duration of the conflict and the range of interest groups involved made it much more difficult to manage on a rhetorical level. For the first time, British and Free French decision-makers placed a priority on garnering local support for the invasion and occupation. The narrative surrounding the operation continued to stress a future Allied victory, and it continued to promote the Free French as the true voice of France. But it also shifted in fundamental ways. The rhetoric of Allied victory was now linked to promises of Levantine independence. The precise nature of this independence remained undecided. These arguments over the future of the Levant would burgeon into a wider debate over the future of Franco-British influence throughout the region. Guarantees of independence were an integral part of the invasions. Wavell believed that such assurances were essential to their success. They would gather support from Arab contingents in Syria, and they would dispel German claims that only Axis forces would grant the region independence.65 Wavell suggested that ‘General de Gaulle [should] be pressed’ to support full independence for both states and that this statement should subsequently be endorsed by the British government. The result was that on the same day that Allied troops crossed into Vichy colonial territory, General Catroux delivered a grand declaration promising to grant independence to Syria and Lebanon. A British message supporting Catroux’s statement appeared shortly after. In the Levant, rhetoric was used to establish the Free French position, but also to suggest that Free France was conceding to nationalist demands. Catroux, rather than being named High Commissioner (a title that would suggest the continuity of French power), was named French Delegate and Plenipotentiary.66 The text of his 8 June declaration was also carefully edited by the Foreign Office and Wavell to avoid local dissent. They sent instructions and guidelines through the British ambassador in Cairo, Sir Miles Lampson. Catroux’s original draft made two assertions. First, it established the Free French as the true representative of France. Second, it promised an end to the mandate. However, independence would be granted only after the conclusion of a treaty ‘conceived in the spirit of [the] Anglo-Egyptian treaty’.67 Foreign Office reservations around Catroux’s statement were based on the reality of anti-French nationalist sentiment in the Levant. They wanted to 65 66 67

Wavell to War Office, 19 May 1941, GB165-0269, Box 1A, MECA. The Chargé in the United Kingdom (Johnson) to the Secretary of State, 7 June 1941, Document 2331, FRUS. Lampson to Foreign Office, 20 May 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA.

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avoid setting off a surge in anti-British sentiment locally or regionally. Catroux was forced to revise his declaration. The changes excised sentences that alluded to an inherent bond between the Levant and France. In Catroux’s original statement, he had first criticised the Vichy government for failing to live up to the promises it had made, independence above all. He then proclaimed that he had come ‘to make France live again for you’. The Foreign Office instructed Lampson to omit this sentence from the statement as it would hardly endear the Arabs to Free French intentions. It also requested that Catroux’s promise that the Levant would become ‘two sovereign states bound to us by a treaty of alliance’ be modified. The phrase ‘bound to us’ sounded too coercive. It should be replaced by ‘united with us’. Wavell had similar misgivings over the statement. He recommended that references to the Anglo-Egyptian Treaty should be avoided due to its general unpopularity throughout the Middle East. Likewise, repeated mentions of France more generally would only inflame Arab opinion, which was already anti-French.68 Spears wrote to Churchill in early June to stress the importance of keeping Arab opinion sympathetic to the Allied cause in general and Britain’s Middle Eastern presence in particular. ‘Our own influence in the Arab world will not be increased by being instrumental in substituting one kind of French rule for another’.69 Spears, like other British policy-makers, understood that actions taken in the Levant would not remain isolated. They would impact how British policy was or could be conducted across the Middle East. Justifications of the Anglo-Gaullist invasion and occupation had to take into account a staggering range of interest groups. We know that French and Arab populations in Syria and Lebanon viewed the future of the Levant states in very different ways. This array of competing and often conflicting expectations made it impossible for Britain and the Free French to offer guarantees that would satisfy everyone. But it did not stop them from trying. Wavell received instructions to set up a ‘propaganda machine’ in the region as soon as possible.70 Spears, on 29 May, wrote that statements issued in the Levant should be not only antiVichy but also pro-Free French. He claimed that British declarations in favour of Free France would encourage opposition to German infiltration amongst the current French administrators and their families. Spears was offering recommendations on how to garner support from 68 69 70

Wavell to War Office, 21 May 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA. Spears to Churchill, 5 June 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA. Cipher Telegram, War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 7 June 1941, WO 106/3073, TNA.

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two distinct elements of the local population: French colonials and the more pro-French Christian minorities in Lebanon. To do so, he suggested a number of recognisable approaches. Spears believed that British statements should be ‘careful to dissociate French people from their Government’. They should make it clear that they had been betrayed by their leaders, thereby arousing a ‘sense of honour’.71 He even suggested quoting past French heroes in order to stress Vichy’s inherent un-Frenchness. Spears believed that Napoleon’s adage ‘the man who obeys the orders of a captive General is a traitor’ would be particularly effective.72 The following day Wavell, in line with Spears, recommended that a British propaganda campaign should be mounted with the goal of discrediting Vichy and supporting the Free French.73 This was only the beginning of British and Free French efforts to consolidate their respective influence within the Levant and throughout the Arab world. Further complicating matters, explanations of Exporter also had to consider opinion outside the Middle East. British rhetoric had to respond to criticism at home, which critiqued the sluggishness of the operations and their inability to secure a rapid victory against Vichy troops. It also had to contend with Vichy rhetoric, which continued to rehash arguments based on its legal status, national sovereignty and historic rights in the Levant. Imperial conflict in the Levant thus forced Britain and the Free French to wage rhetorical battle on a number of fronts. Most importantly, placing independence at the centre of this rhetoric opened a gap between British and Free French understandings of the conflict. In particular, it highlighted the growing tension between British and Free French definitions of Levantine independence and visions of their respective imperial influence after the conflict. In the lead up to Exporter, there was extensive speculation about German infiltration in the Levant across the British press. After 8 June, the press continued to support action to quash this threat. In official quarters, efforts were made (as at Dakar) to downplay Vichy resistance and keep the spirit of Franco-British alliance alive. War Office instructions stressed that press releases should ‘refer to French opposition as Vichy troops or Vichy planes not (repeat not) as enemy’.74 However, high levels of resistance from Vichy troops in the Levant made it difficult to depict their armed forces as a victim of German domination.

71 72 73 74

Spears to Foreign Office, 28 May 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA. Ibid. Wavell to War Office, 29 May 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA. Cipher Telegram, War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 11 June 1941, WO 193/969, TNA.

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The  resulting Franco-French and Franco-British battle threatened to jeopardise Catroux’s early claims that the Free French would be welcomed as liberators. Having anticipated the eventuality of resistance in Syria, the Foreign Office had already adopted a plan, which justified Allied actions while vindicating the French public. It blamed the mounting collaborationism between Hitler and Darlan for putting the Allies in an impossible position and forcing them to act, however, reluctantly.75 Consistent with previous strategies, British official rhetoric described the operations as not just necessary, but inevitable. However, Allied forces struggled to make progress in their drive into the interior of both countries. These difficulties made it hard to formulate a consistent explanation for the operation. Vichy’s sustained resistance meant the Foreign Office was forced to balance between a hard-line rhetoric, which received positive support at home and a desire not to alienate metropolitan French sentiment with excessive bloodshed. Early press releases, including this one published on 9 June, tried to focus on the Free French character of the expedition. ‘His Majesty’s Government could not be expected to tolerate such actions … Free French troops have, therefore, with the support of Imperial forces, entered Syria and the Lebanon’.76 The conscious decision to portray Exporter as a Free French operation was reminiscent of the failed invasion at Dakar. However, in the case of Exporter, there was a greater acknowledgement of the role British forces were playing, even if the Free French remained in theory the legitimate beneficiaries. Remember that after Dakar, there was a great deal of criticism directed towards the British government for failing to follow through with the operation. During Exporter, Churchill’s government in London had to contend with similar challenges, which were rooted in the public desire for clearly perceptible progress in the war effort. Military losses in other conflict zones also impacted how the public responded to the Levant operations. The withdrawal from Crete in the week prior to Exporter had led to declines in morale and increasing press criticism. Home Intelligence concluded, ‘General feeling about the progress of the war is possibly more pessimistic this week than at any period since the fall of France’.77 In the War Cabinet, policy-makers saw an anxious public who were calling for real wartime victories. Commenting upon declining morale, the same report stated, ‘In its almost unanimous outburst of criticism, the press seems not to have led public opinion but 75 76 77

Foreign Office, French Department, 7 June 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN. ‘Why We Entered Syria: Bases Put at Disposal of the Enemy’, The Guardian, 9 June 1941, 6. ‘Allied Forces March into Syria’, The Times, 9 June 1941, 4. Home Intelligence Reports, 28 May–4 June 1941, INF 1/292, TNA.

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to have followed’.78 Although early media publications argued that Vichy troops were not showing much resistance, prolonged fighting called these claims into question.79 A 16 June war communiqué was one of the first to admit that Vichy troops in Syria were putting up a fierce struggle.80 Wavell’s report on the invasion force’s approach to Damascus was even bleaker: ‘Politically and psychologically Free French almost universally unpopular in Syria’.81 The MOI attributed public criticism to the belief that Allied advances lacked conviction. Intelligence that surveyed opinion on the Exporter operations indicated widespread disappointment that ‘our progress is not overwhelming and rapid, in the grand German manner’. Explanations for this outcome included fears of offending the French and meeting greater than expected resistance.82 Media publications that appeared to show sympathy for Vichy troops were viewed negatively. A 17 June article in The Times wrote, ‘Fighting is being resorted to only when gentle persuasion fails’.83 Reports like this one, which depicted a less hard-line approach, became a source of frustration in the War Cabinet. Churchill, writing to Wavell only the day before, made it clear that despite the ‘rumours’ present in the press that the slow progress of the operation was due to attempts to ‘avoid shedding French blood’, only military factors should be taken into consideration.84 Replying to Churchill’s query, Australian General Thomas Blamey declared that although there was no truth to the rumours, the operation simply could not move any faster. His units lacked the strength to deal effectively with high levels of Vichy resistance.85 Official justifications as well as the press analyses that followed remained reluctant to depict Exporter as a traditional wartime operation. These hesitations were a product of continuing uncertainty over what the Franco-British relationship actually looked like at this point. The result was a series of rather confusing descriptions that alternately castigated and sympathised with Vichy French forces. The Allied troops, one article asserted, ‘do not conceive of themselves as invaders, nor is this in intention an operation of war’.86 Clearly, this was a substantial exaggeration. But it illustrates how tempting it was to substitute hostile

78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86

Ibid. Special Correspondent, ‘Entry at Dawn’, The Times, 10 June 1941, 4. ‘War Communiqué’, 16 June 1941, WO 216/10, TNA. C. in C. Middle East to War Office, 16 July 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1 File 7, MECA. Home Intelligence Reports, 18–25 June 1941, INF 1/292, TNA. Our Correspondent, ‘Divided Allegiance in Syria’, The Times, 17 June 1941, 4. Telegram, Churchill to Wavell, 16 June 1941, WO 216/10, TNA. Cypher, Blamey to Churchill, 17 June 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA. ‘The Advance into Syria’, The Times, 11 June 1941, 5.

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imagery with more comforting notions of residual Franco-British understanding. Allied troops were now face to face with a Vichy force that was determined to resist its demands. Yet, British rhetoric continued to insist that this resistance was the product of a few bad apples and that the majority of opinion in the Levant was pro-Allied. Bad deeds perpetrated by ‘Vichy men’, allegations that ‘Vichy’s conscience is not clear’ and discussions of Vichy’s embarrassment over the struggle all drew a clear line between ‘the few’ that engaged in collaborative crimes and the vast majority of French opinion.87 Exporter was portrayed as a liberation by the legitimate representative of France, not an occupation by a hostile power. Churchill firmly grounded this sentiment in his 10 June Commons address. ‘We shall do all in our power to restore the freedom, independence and rights of France’.88 This claim was at the heart of a broader Franco-French argument over who was the rightful mandate holder and by association, the legitimate representative of French interests. Likewise, claims over the Levant shaped the rhetoric emerging from Britain and Vichy and highlighted the centrality of empire, both strategically and symbolically in the ongoing conflict. By the time that Exporter was launched in 1941, the popularity of the Vichy government was waning and unrest was growing on a wide scale. Food shortages over the winter of 1940–1941 had sparked fortysix demonstrations in the occupied zone alone.89 The BBC remained uniformly popular and was viewed as more reliable and trustworthy than Vichy communications.90 Public opinion analyses used information gathered from telegraph, telephone and postal interceptions to conclude that collaborationist policies were largely unpopular and that British victory was hoped for.91 This did not stop the Vichy government from trying to discredit BBC broadcasts aimed at French listeners by attributing them to Jewish or ‘recently naturalised’ sources.92 Vichy authorities faced the added challenge of maintaining a functioning press. A 3 July

87

88 89 90 91

92

Alexander Werth, ‘Embarrassment of Vichy: French Public Aware of Why We Entered Syria’, The Guardian, 11 June 1941, 8. Alexander Werth, ‘Vichy’s Three Objectives in Syria: Stirring up Anti-British Feeling’, The Guardian, 13 June 1941, 8. Hansard HC Deb vol. 372 col. 158 (10 June 1941) http://hansard.millbanksystems .com/commons/1941/jun/10/defence-of-crete. Julian Jackson, France the Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 276. Ibid., 281. Secrétariat d’état à la guerre: Synthèse décadaire des interceptions des contrôles télégraphiques, téléphoniques, et postaux, 25 November–4 December 1940, F/41/266, AN. Broadcasts in French for the French Listener, 14–20 April 1941, ABMS 1/2/2, CCAC.

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letter from the Secrétaire général adjoint de l’information (General Secretariat of Information) informed newspaper offices that the press situation was critical due to serious paper shortages.93 Le Temps was unavailable for much of 1941, and other popular dailies including Le Figaro only published eight editions between June and July. Abridged metropolitan and colonial newspapers, often consisting of only three or four pages, prioritised official press releases and communications made by Vichy officials. This meant that the number of independent articles and the availability of news itself was much scarcer than in Britain. April 1941 had seen a crackdown on censorship more broadly. Books were being removed from public libraries, forbidden by the German authorities on the grounds of political extremism or moral degeneracy.94 Despite increasing opposition to Vichy, Pétain’s popularity continued to grow well into 1942. He was also able to recover support by dismissing Pierre Laval as vice president of the Council (effectively French Premier) in December 1940. These kinds of policies allowed Pétain to distance himself from the collaborationist strategies that remained widely unpopular. By the time that Exporter was launched, the Vichy government was under mounting pressure to shore up its legitimacy by swearing off Franco-German cooperation. The invasions themselves were not a surprise. We know that criticisms of Vichy’s collaborationist policies in the Levant saturated the British media in the days leading up to the operation. Pétain confronted these allegations in his official radio address following the invasion. Speaking directly to the Levant, Pétain accused British propaganda of forging a pretext for aggression.95 Vichy officials claimed that British allegations were merely an excuse to seize the region for themselves. Further reports suggested that the British government had deliberately worked up American opinion by spreading false information about Syria.96 Pétain called upon Frenchmen in Syria ‘to fight in a just cause and for the integrity of the territory entrusted to France by history’.97 The official Vichy communiqué issued in response to 8 June predictably identified British troops as the aggressors.98 Subsequent press publications followed a familiar line of argument: British aggression threatened the territory of a sovereign and neutral state. They situated the current operations

93 94 95 96 97 98

‘Autorisations de Publications 1941’, 3 July 1941, F/41/106, AN. ‘Surveillance 1940–44’, 4 April 1941, F/7/14882, AN. ‘Le Maréchal Pétain aux Français du Levant’, Echo D’Alger, 9 June 1941, 1. Télégramme a l’arrivée, de M. Lyautey, 18 June 1941, 10GMII/342, MAE. Our Correspondent, ‘Weygand and Vichy’, The Times, 9 June 1941, 3. ‘Communiqué officiel du 8 Juin’, L’Echo d’Alger, 9 June 1941, 1.

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within a longer history of hostility by referencing earlier clashes at Mers el-Kébir, Dakar and Sfax. Images of the past played an important role in Vichy’s attempts to make sense of what was happening in the Levant. And they showed just how easy it was to ascribe British policies to a history of Franco-British rivalry. Vichy’s Minister of Defence, General Charles Huntziger, released an official statement that described Britain as an invader ‘whose perfidy is well-known to you’ and proclaimed that ‘the France of the Crusaders is today the France of Marshal Pétain’.99 At the same time as condemning British policy, Vichy rhetoric challenged the legitimacy of de Gaulle’s movement. Pétain’s initial radio declaration, subsequently published in the press, attacked de Gaulle’s earlier promises never to engage in a fight against Frenchmen. ‘The attack is led, as at Dakar, by Frenchmen serving under a dissident flag. Supported by British Imperial forces, they are not hesitating to spill the blood of their brothers defending the unity of the Empire and French Sovereignty’.100 Vichy’s sovereignty was rooted deeply in its imperial territories. Defending it meant responding to attacks by British imperial troops and marginalising the Free French movement as a rival French entity. A report issued by the Service du Propagande emphasised that images of the empire should be linked to French power and greatness. In order to ensure that France remained a great power, the empire had to be protected from the British: ‘L’histoire prouve que l’Angleterre est l’ennemi héréditaire de cet Empire qui concurrence le sien. Elle a déjà attaqué l’A.E.F. et la Syrie – non pour la “libérer”, mais pour s’y installer …’.101 Vichy’s hostility to Britain and the Gaullist movement was articulated in imperial and historic terms. It is not inopportune to recall … when Britain is sheltering behind Gaullism to attack our Empire, that Britain is not in the habit of winning the ultimate victory over France. At Waterloo, England was supported by the whole of Europe against France alone, and, without the arrival of Bleucher, who knows who would have won in this sad field, the tenacity of the English or that of the Grenadiers of General Cambronne?102

Vichy rhetoric situated the French nation outside of the wider conflict. This allowed it to challenge British justifications, which viewed the use of armed force for the ‘greater good’ of one’s own community and ‘the

99 100

101 102

Broadcasts in French for the French Listener, 9–15 June 1941, ABMS 1/2/2, CCAC. ‘Le Maréchal Pétain aux Français du Levant’, L’Echo d’Alger, 9 June 1941, 1. ‘What Vichy Says’, The Guardian, 9 June 1941, 6. ‘L’Attaque contre La Syrie et la Défense de Notre Empire’, Le Figaro, 9 June 1941, 2. Guide: Les Thèmes de Propagande, no date, F/41/266, AN. Broadcasts in French for the French Listener, 30 June–6 July 1941, ABMS 1/2/3, CCAC.

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international order’ as acceptable and desirable.103 For Vichy, British actions were not acts of war. They were a continuation of a much longer history of Franco-British imperial rivalry. William Leahy, the American ambassador to the Vichy government, doubted that Vichy had been very successful in its attempts to ‘stir up public indignation’ over Exporter. However, Vichy was able to instil a sense of unease through its descriptions of ‘Frenchmen fighting Frenchmen’. Moreover, Britain’s slowness to capture the territory was a blow to its military prestige. According to Leahy, ‘even those in favour of allied victory tend to view British military as incompetent and to have a tendency for “bungling” land operations’.104 British broadcasts aimed at listeners in metropolitan and imperial France continued to discredit the Vichy government and exonerate the French population. They celebrated Anglo-Free French cooperation and associated Vichy with the Nazis.105 This kind of rhetoric reflected official views, which believed that fostering Anglophilia within France was essential for future post-war relations. In a letter from Robert Parr, the British Consul General at Brazzaville, to Foreign Secretary Eden, Parr emphasised, ‘the well-being of the people of France and their attitude towards ourselves are both factors of lasting importance to His Majesty’s Government’.106 In order to counter Vichy’s accusations of imperial aggression in the Levant, British broadcasts maintained that the operations were an example of continuing Franco-British cooperation. Here too, references to the past were a tactic to promote the legitimacy of de Gaulle’s movement. On France’s national day, 14 July, British broadcasts reminded Frenchmen and women that France was now ‘body and soul a prisoner in the Bastille’, whose walls the men of Vichy were rebuilding ‘with foreign stones’. De Gaulle would liberate France just as he embodied continuing Franco-British relations.107 Churchill’s message commemorating Bastille day, French listeners were informed, was read aloud by Admiral Muselier in London at the foot of the statue of Marshal Foch. ‘There was no statue of Foch, it was pointed out, in France but there is one in England’.108

103 104 105 106 107 108

James Turner Johnson, Ethics and the Use of Force: Just War in Historical Perspective (Surrey, England: Ashgate, 2011), 2. The Ambassador in France (Leahy) to the Secretary of State, 16 July 1941, Document 835, FRUS. Broadcasts in French for the French Listener, 2–8 June 1941, ABMS 1/2/2, CCAC. Parr to Eden, 26 July 1941, FO 432/7, TNA. Broadcasts in French for the French Listener, 14–20 July 1941, ABMS 1/2/3, CCAC. Ibid.

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Vichy’s official statements were also printed widely in the British press. This meant that the British public was engaging with a range of content justifying or condemning operations in the Levant. Vichy’s attempts to downplay Germany’s presence in the region by arguing that German planes were only transiting through Syria were met with scorn by the British press and public. The British press countered Vichy’s explanations, reasoning that Germany could not be trusted. It argued that merely admitting that German troops had at one point been in Syria justified Exporter. As The Times diplomatic correspondent suggested, ‘Germany’s pretence at withdrawal was only a typical German trick to try to prove the British the aggressors’.109 However, the continuing resistance of Vichy troops was having a troubling impact on British public opinion. Home Intelligence Reports concluded ‘The resistance of the Vichy forces intensifies dislike and contempt for the French, and there seems to be little attempt to distinguish between Vichy and Frenchmen generally’. The report suggested implementing an intense propaganda campaign to combat anti-French feelings. This followed reports of attacks on Free French sailors, allegedly mistaken as Vichy troops.110 Public criticism surrounding Exporter was not aimed only at the British government. It illustrated how difficult it was to control the notion of a Franco-British alliance. On 22 June, Germany invaded the Soviet Union in operation Barbarossa. The Soviet entry into the war on the Allied side did result in some improvement in popular British morale. Churchill’s Commons address in reaction to news of Barbarossa was reportedly met with great approval and ‘quelled a rising tide of criticism and doubt of the higher direction of the war’.111 This significant development also became the main focus of news for the Vichy French press. Despite this shift in attention amongst the two metropolitan media, a new source of tension began to develop within the Levant states themselves, this time between the British and the Free French. Britain’s strategic and political priorities began to depart from de Gaulle’s resolute desire to protect France’s traditional role in the Levant. On 8 July, Spears noted that Syria ‘insofar as it has an opinion at all, would gladly sever its connexion with France’.112 Spears may have been disdainful of the idea of a local Syrian opinion. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore its impact on British and Free French 109 110 111 112

Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Vichy Protest to Britain’, The Times, 11 June 1941, 3. Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 25 June–2 July 1941, INF 1/292, TNA. Ibid. Spears to Spears Mission Brazzaville, 8 July 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA.

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policy. At the crux of this issue was independence, an eventuality promised to Syria and Lebanon by both the British and Free French. The two European actors tried to mobilise rhetoric that appealed to nationalist sentiments and bolstered their respective prestige. However, it quickly became apparent that the two partners had entirely different motivations for pursuing this approach. The Foreign Office knew that the fate of the Levant was important. Other Middle Eastern states were watching closely to see if Britain would put pressure on France to follow through on independence. De Gaulle, on the other hand, preferred to resist nationalist demands as long as possible. He wanted to ensure that his Levant representatives would first conclude favourable Franco-Syrian and Franco-Lebanese treaties. As underlying British and Free French political and military tactics clashed, local voices became a useful barometer to gauge respective successes and internal prestige. The operations in Syria were further complicated by the obvious superiority of British military power over that of the Free French. British and Imperial troops made up the bulk of the invasion and occupation forces. Spears had argued that troops from as many nationalities as possible should take part in the operations as this would have a great ‘psychological effect’ on Vichy troops.113 Official statistics reported that the operation included 9,000 British, 18,000 Australian, 2,000 Indian and 5,000 Free French troops.114 Even though the British promoted the Free French as the political custodians of the Levant states, there was little they could do without British backup. This reality was a source of frustration for de Gaulle. Eden reaffirmed the British policy of Syrian independence following the cessation of hostilities on 14 July, writing to Cairo-based British Minister of State Oliver Lyttelton in these terms: ‘It was never our intention that Free French should virtually step into the place of the Dentz Administration or that they should govern Syria in the name of France’.115 Prior to departing his post, Wavell expressed similar concerns. He believed that if the local population came to believe that the Free French planned to renege on their promises, it would have a negative effect upon British prestige locally and throughout the Arab world.116 To this end, the British sought to bolster their own legitimacy in the Middle East through renewed proclamations of independence. At the same time, there were other risks involved. Appearing to trample over Free French interests in favour of British ones risked losing support 113 114 115 116

Spears to Foreign Office, 1 June 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA. Cypher, C. in C. Middle East to War Office, 4 July 1941, WO 216/10, TNA. Cypher, Foreign Secretary to Lyttelton, 3 July 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA. Cypher, C. in C. Middle East to War Office, 2 July 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA.

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within metropolitan France. This meant that internal disagreements had to be carefully hidden. De Gaulle was also in favour of masking the level of British power behind the invasion and occupation. Doing so would advance his legitimacy, at least on a rhetorical level. He also predicted that if the Anglo-Gaullist alliance fell apart, this would allow the Axis and Vichy to turn French opinion against them.117 De Gaulle warned Churchill that international opinion would be ‘watching closely the attitude which Great Britain will take towards the position of France in this region’.118 De Gaulle’s position on Levantine mandate status was not dissimilar to the interwar policies deployed by French mandate officials. He acknowledged that, as a League of Nations mandate holder, France had a long-term commitment to prepare Syria and Lebanon for an independent indigenous government. At the same time, he was more than willing to maintain French authority in the (unspecified) interim by using violent and authoritarian tactics.119 De Gaulle was fundamentally unwilling to relinquish French political primacy in what he believed were now Free French territories. He thought that he could quell any local opposition by reiterating promises of independence. But his version of independence demanded the continuation of established French institutions.120 De Gaulle’s understanding of independence was not new. It echoed French and British interwar assumptions about mandate governance. Mandate holders did not need to assert formal sovereignty indefinitely over their mandates. Preferential treaties could ensure that these territories remained tied to the mandate holder even after independence, economically and politically.121 The British were not fundamentally opposed to de Gaulle’s vision, but they also had to consider strategic and troubling regional interests of their own in Palestine, Egypt and Iraq. Churchill, responding to rumours that Britain desired to usurp the French role in the Levant, wrote to former League of Nations delegate René Cassin, ‘This country has no intention of upsetting French rights in Syria. On the contrary, we desire to assure those rights against every other power’.122 However, Churchill’s

117 118 119

120 121 122

De Gaulle to Churchill, June 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN. Cypher, de Gaulle to Churchill, 29 June 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA. De Gaulle to Churchill, 29 June 1941, 18GMII/39, MAE. For more on contrasting French and British approaches to interwar mandate governance and indirect rule, see Martin Thomas, ‘French Intelligence-Gathering in the Syrian Mandate, 1920–40’, Middle Eastern Studies 38, no. 1 (2002): 1–3. De Gaulle to Pleven, 5 June 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN. Pedersen, The Guardians, 260. Churchill to Cassin, July 1941, 18GMII/39, MAE.

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assurances, both privately and in the Commons, were never carried further than vague promises. Nowhere in the British government was the preservation of French influence a priority over Britain’s own regional interests. Even Spears, the original champion of the Free French movement, was clear on this matter. Writing to Consul-General Robert Parr at the Spears Mission in Brazzaville, he stated decisively, ‘No French officer however high in rank must ever be allowed to run down British authorities and if any should forget, as some apparently do, that we are the predominant partner in the Alliance, they must be gently reminded of this fact. No French soldier would have a rifle in his hand or a franc in his pocket were it not for us’.123 British concerns surrounding the stability of the Arab region were evident throughout the operation. Most importantly, they impacted how Wavell explained the invasions to local audiences in the Middle East. He soon abandoned his initial attempts to legitimise the operation by arguing that troops were meeting little or no resistance from Vichy. He decided these depictions were no longer credible and were in fact creating suspicions of British duplicity amongst those observing the course of the invasion in Palestine and Egypt.124 He informed the War Office ‘We are now taking line that opposition was in fact thin and sporadic at first but that in the nature of things fighting once started does spread and consequently opposition is now more general and fighting has been severe in places’.125 Unlike previous operations, the War and Foreign Offices believed that the invasion and occupation of the Levant would only be successful if they could manage ‘Arab opinion’. By this they meant wider local opinion in the Levant but also in the broader Middle East. This meant managing the expectations of local nationalist leaders but also avoiding broader popular unrest. Plans to manage local opinion were integrated into the operational plans constructed by the War and Foreign Offices. Wavell was responsible for issuing ‘proclamations’ to local press agencies in Cairo and Jerusalem immediately following the launch of Exporter while the Foreign Office managed the invasionrelated propaganda in India and Turkey.126 Wavell’s early reports stressed that ‘the Arabs’ seemed generally pleased at the British arrival. But tensions between the British and 123 124 125 126

Spears to Spears Mission, Brazzaville, 23 July 1941, GB165-0269, Box 1A MECA. Secret Cipher Telegram, C in C Middle East to War Office, 19 June 1941, WO 193/969, TNA. Secret Cipher Telegram, C. in C. Middle East to War Office, June 1941, WO 193/959, TNA. Secret Cipher Telegram, C. in C. Middle East to War Office, 7 June 1941, WO 106/3073, TNA.

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Gaullist leadership soon became apparent.127 A telegram from the War Office warned Wavell that after Dentz’s 10 July request to negotiate terms for an armistice, de Gaulle appeared to have ceded General Catroux the full powers previously enjoyed by Dentz. This, he hoped, would exclude the British from any real control.128 De Gaulle was growing increasingly anxious about the emerging power structure in the Levant. He believed that the departure of Wavell from Cairo to his new position as Viceroy of India had ‘left the field clear for the passions of the “arabophiles”’.129 Dentz’s refusal to negotiate with the Free French further annoyed de Gaulle, especially when Churchill informed Lyttelton that it was crucial that terms were signed even if it meant sidelining the Free French.130 On the evening of 12 July, General Wilson and Dentz’s representative, General Joseph de Verdilhac, signed armistice terms. These were ratified on 14 July, after which the War Cabinet quickly created the Committee on Foreign (Allied) Resistance in Syria. Led by Major Morton, this new committee became the central informational and policy-making hub. The committee began meeting on 18 July and was kept informed of both military and political issues in the Levant by the War, Foreign and Colonial Offices.131 However, in the weeks to follow, it became clear that Anglo-Gaullist interests in the region were not always compatible. The result was that each side mobilised its own rhetoric to try to compete for support within the Middle East and Levant states alike. After the Armistice: Imperial Tension and Emerging Rhetorical Battlegrounds Philip Khoury has argued that the British presence in Syria was decisive in establishing Syrian independence.132 Independence movements had existed well before the outbreak of war, but there was never one distinct sense of Arab nationalism.133 And it was more than simply the arrival of British or Imperial forces in Syria that spurred on these movements. The Foreign Office encouraged local representatives like Lampson and 127 128 129 130 131 132 133

Secret Cipher Telegram, C. in C. Middle East to War Office, 10 June 1941, WO 106/3073, TNA. Secret Cipher Telegram, War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 1 July 1941, WO 106/3073, TNA. Charles de Gaulle, War Memoirs. Volume One: The Call to Honour 1940–1942, trans. Jonathan Griffin (London: Collins, 1955), 194. Note, Churchill to Lyttelton, 12 July 1941, WO 216/10, TNA. War Cabinet, Committee on Foreign (Allied) Resistance (Syria), 18 July 1941, GB165-0269, Box 1 File 4, MECA. Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate, 583. Gelvin, Divided Loyalties, 7.

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Lyttelton to garner Arab support regardless of the consequences for Free French prestige. De Gaulle wrote bitterly of the armistice agreement that it did not contain ‘a word about the rights of France, either for the present or for the future’ and accused the British of imperial greed.134 On 16 July, de Gaulle left Brazzaville for Cairo, reportedly in a very ‘anti British mood’.135 His early disappointment regarding the armistice would soon be magnified when he discovered that it contained a secret protocol forbidding personal contact between Vichy French and Allied forces. In the months to come, he continued to object strongly to Britain’s Arabcentred policy. What was most galling was that Arab opinion, and not Free French demands, held sway throughout the Foreign Office and within the Middle East Command (MEC). A Foreign Office memorandum warned that Arab opinion would react badly if too much power was granted to the Free French in Syria, especially if the British were seen to be playing little or no role.136 More explicit instructions sent to Lampson emphasised, ‘support of Arab world is of greater importance to us and we must not risk losing this in our material desire to meet Free French wishes’.137 Lampson and Auchinleck (now Commander in Chief Middle East) were instructed to prioritise Arab opinion when it came to policies that could be viewed as prejudicial to independence.138 While the Foreign Office and MEC were primarily concerned with Arab reactions, Churchill and the MOI continued to stress the importance of strengthening images of Franco-British cooperation at home. British policy in the Levant thus faced the challenge of appealing to disparate audiences with often diverging demands – in the Levant, in France and in Britain. The end of the Syrian campaign was met with ‘relief everywhere’ on the British home front.139 British press responses to Dentz’s request for an armistice encouraged speculation over the future of the French position in the Levant. Most articles pointed out that the German threat had demanded engagement. The campaign was ‘forced upon the British and the Free French against their will and against their hearts’.140 Now that the fighting was finally over, the press returned to the idea that

134 135 136 137 138 139 140

De Gaulle, Call to Honour, 194. Spears Mission, Brazzaville to War Office, 16 July 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA. Note, Foreign Office to Churchill, 14 July 1941, WO 216/10, TNA. Telegram, Foreign Office to Lampson, 14 July 1941, WO 216/10, TNA. Telegram, Foreign Office to Lampson, 14 July 1941, PREM 3/422/7, TNA. Ibid. Weekly Intelligence Reports, 9–16 July, INF 1/292, TNA. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘No Vindictive Terms Likely’, The Times, 10 July 1941, 4.

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Vichy troops had been pressured into resistance by the Germans.141 An article entitled ‘French Dupes in Syria’ stipulated that prisoner statements revealed that Vichy troops did not want to fight the British. Rather, they had been deceived by the Germans, who convinced them that they had never used and never would use Syria as a base for operations against their former ally. Thus, they mistakenly believed they were simply defending their territorial integrity from an unprovoked Anglo-Free French invasion.142 Another article portrayed General de Verdilhac as no less than an honourable Frenchman, who, upon arriving at the negotiations, ‘winked broadly, drew his hand quickly across his throat, and whispered in a voice full of meaning, “Les Boches”’.143 These assertions and others that celebrated the rapid transition of Vichy troops to the Allied side were substantially exaggerated. They attempted to give de Gaulle an elevated role in the conflict. And they were consistent with repeated attempts to discredit a very specific circle of ‘Vichy men’, paving the way for the exoneration of the majority of Frenchmen. Still, de Gaulle remained unhappy with the content of the armistice, particularly the additional protocol. This led to an exchange of letters between Lyttelton and de Gaulle, culminating in the Lyttelton–de Gaulle agreement. This understanding simply put in writing Lyttelton’s assurance that Britain had no desire to usurp the Levant from the French. He confirmed ‘… on the British side we recognise the historic interests of the French in the Levant. Great Britain has no interest in Syria or the Lebanon except to win the war’.144 Churchill attributed de Gaulle’s frustration to his failure, not only to rally Vichy troops to his cause but also to gain recognition for the Free French movement as the ‘true France’. Even at this stage, the Armistice Convention listed de Verdilhac as the representative of the French government and not the Vichy government.145 In practice, the Free French movement was not awarded the primary political role that de Gaulle had envisaged. Prior to his departure, Wavell issued instructions to the British mass media to avoid using the word ‘armistice’ in all reports. They should instead describe the agreement as a ‘convention’. When the War Office asked Wavell for clarification on this issue of word choice, he responded that the press 141 142 143 144 145

Special Correspondent, ‘The Fighting in Syria: Vichy Prisoners Confused about the Issues’, The Guardian, 12 July 1941, 4. Special Correspondent, ‘French Dupes in Syria’, The Times, 11 July 1941, 3. Special Correspondent, ‘Armistice in Syria’, The Times, 14 July 1941, 4. ‘Extracts from Lyttelton-de Gaulle Agreement’, 25 July 1941, PREM 3/423/4, TNA. ‘Projet d’accord Franco Britannique au Levant’, 25 July 1941, 18GMII/43, MAE. Cypher Telegram, Churchill to Lyttelton, July 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA.

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should be told that a convention was a lasting agreement, rather than a temporary expedient.146 Of course, calling the agreement a convention also avoided connotations of animosity that were inherent in the term ‘armistice’. These strategic efforts to recast Exporter outside of a military framework using neutral vocabulary were thwarted. One hour before Wavell’s instructions arrived, the British media received a telegram from New York announcing that an armistice had been signed. Thus, ‘the whole of the British press had made use of the word “armistice” and not “convention”’.147 These tactics were not employed solely or even primarily to placate the British public. The MOI had already concluded that the majority of British people were not only supportive of the operation, but in favour of a harsher stance towards metropolitan France as a whole. Rather, the British government’s media manipulation underlined the continued belief within the War Cabinet that the notion of a Franco-British alliance should not be abandoned. This conviction was forward looking. It anticipated an Allied victory, and with it a reforging of this relationship. Attempting simultaneously to protect the Franco-British and the Anglo-Arab relationship became increasingly challenging as time went on. This will become more apparent in the final two chapters, when the British responded to unilateral and violent Free French policy initiatives in 1943 and 1945. In 1941, it was still possible to engage in a wait and see approach. Lyttelton’s negotiations with de Gaulle were a good example of this frame of mind. They underlined the hope that current tensions between Free French and (particularly Syrian) nationalist groups could be solved without damaging Britain’s regional prestige. In the Commons, Churchill addressed this same sentiment publicly. After announcing the conclusion of a military convention in Syria, he emphasised that Britain had no territorial ambitions. To the contrary, ‘our only objective in occupying the country has been to beat the Germans and help to win the war’.148 As it became obvious that regional stability and Syrian and Lebanese independence were closely intertwined, this position became untenable. Political realities in the Levant also made it difficult to maintain a coherent and consistent rhetoric of Anglo-Free French relations. A Free French memo noted that although difficulties might be encountered between themselves and the British regarding the

146 147 148

War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 15 July 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA. C. in C. Middle East to War Office, 15 July 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA. Draft Message, from Lt. Col D.D.I.P, 17 July 1941, WO 106/5707, TNA. Hansard HC Deb vol. 373 col. 464 (15 July 1941) http://hansard.millbanksystems .com/commons/1941/jul/15/war-situation.

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administration of Syria, it was essential to present the image of an entente parfaite to the Syrian population.149 By late July, the British press had stopped reporting extensively on the Levant. It was focusing instead on the newly opened Russian front. However, regional issues in the Levant continued to complicate Anglo-Free French relations. De Gaulle’s advisors informed him that the attitude of the British in Syria was dictated by Britain’s imperial engagements with the Arabs and the desire to cultivate better relations with the Turks.150 His response was to embark on an extensive press campaign, the goal of which was to re-establish French legitimacy in the region, as well as on a global level. Working alongside the Free French Press Services, de Gaulle recognised that French administrators in the Levant would need international backing and acquiescence in order to wield a free hand. Since late July, he had instructed Catroux to compile ‘precise facts’ regarding German activities in Syria in order to clarify world opinion.151 Free French policy after Exporter aimed to consolidate French influence in the Levant. It showed a reluctance to relinquish the mandate and a worrying tendency to downplay the strength of nationalist sentiment. This increased tensions between British and Free French policymakers. Still smarting from what he believed were British intrigues in the Levant, on 1 September de Gaulle conducted an interview with George Weller from the Chicago Daily News. He claimed that Vichy was serving as an intermediary between Britain and Germany, and that, like Germany, Britain’s aim was also to exploit Vichy.152 After being confronted by Churchill, de Gaulle, although apologising, maintained his belief that the Free French role in Syria was under threat.153 Official communiqués issued by Carleton Gardens employed themes of sovereignty, much like Vichy had done a few months earlier, in order to legitimise the Free French position in the Levant. Rhetoric like this directly contradicted local calls for independence. Paul Henri Siriex, Chief of Free French Press Services, wrote numerous press releases, which emphasised repeatedly that the Levant states were not subjugated to French rule. They were willing participants in a broader resurrection of French greatness, an objective they shared and understood. One 149 150 151 152 153

‘Mémoire concernant l’administration des états de Syrie et du Liban’, July 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN. Télégramme Chiffre, au de Gaulle, Beyrouth, 2 August 1941, AG/3(1)/204, AN. Télégramme, de Gaulle au Catroux, 20 July 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN. De Wailly, Syrie 1941, 415. ‘Record of a Meeting between the Prime Minister and General de Gaulle’, 12 September 1941, PREM 3/422/3, TNA.

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report hailed as indistinguishable the patriotic sentiments of both the French and Lebanese populations in Beirut. ‘For the first time since the Armistice, the inhabitants of Beirut can show freely their patriotism and attachment to France; the spontaneous celebration contrasted with the oppressive and sad regime instituted by Vichy’.154 This celebration of local affinity for the French was hardly a new tactic. Eugene Rogan described a similar episode during the centenary festivals in Algiers in 1930. Here too, the French had used rhetoric to commemorate local fealty and ‘undying attachment to the motherland’.155 As de Gaulle travelled throughout Syria that autumn, the Free French Information Service issued a steady stream of press reports that emphasised the French spirit of the Levant and the attachment of the general population to the Free French cause.156 De Gaulle proclaimed the independence and sovereignty of the Syrian State on 27 September, and Catroux (on behalf of de Gaulle) proclaimed Lebanese independence on 26 November. But real power still remained in French hands.157 Responding to pressure from the Foreign Office, Catroux had reinstated the 1936 constitution, but the coinciding Cabinet was appointed, not elected.158 At its head as president was Shaykh Taj al-Din al-Hasani, who D. K. Fieldhouse has described as ‘the central all-purpose French ally in Syria’.159 Maronite statesman, Alfred Georges Naccache, was named as the Lebanese president. More troubling for Britain, but also the United States, was the language of Catroux’s statement regarding Lebanese independence. The Foreign Office feared that Catroux’s commitment to fixing Lebanon’s current territorial boundaries could rankle with Syria and also ‘disturb the relations between Great Britain and the Arab World’.160 Free French reluctance to concede full independence was also viewed as a threat to both British and American interests. Cornelius van Hemert Engert, the American Consul General in Beirut, warned that ‘all unnecessary limitation of Lebanese independence merely to serve French vanity is undesirable and will not only be criticized locally but will be used by Nazi propaganda’.161 The conclusion of Exporter as a 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161

‘Paul Henri Siriex, Haifa’, 26 July 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN. Rogan, The Arabs, 294. France Libre, Service de l’Information, 12 August 1941, 18GMII/49, MAE. Ahmed M. Gomaa, The Foundation of the League of Arab States: Wartime Diplomacy and Inter-Arab Politics 1941–1945 (London: Longman, 1977), 87. Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 299. Ibid., 263. The Consul General at Beirut (Engert) to the Secretary of State, 13 November 1941, Document 864, FRUS. Ibid.

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military engagement thus brought political concerns to the fore and introduced new anxieties regarding the future of the Levant states and the Arab world. Conclusion In October, Churchill appointed Spears as Minister of State, Beirut. The role that he eventually played in pushing for independence would be the source of untold Anglo-Free French friction.162 Even before his appointment, Lyttelton had requested to Catroux that Spears be present at treaty negotiations between France/Syria and France/Lebanon. De Gaulle was fundamentally opposed to this idea. He argued that if this request was in line with the general sentiment of the British government, then it was evidently a political line that was ‘irreconcilable with the sovereign rights of France’.163 After Exporter, the ultimate fate of the Levant states became a vital issue in British foreign policy and remained so into the post-war period. The War Cabinet confirmed its attitude at a meeting on 5 September: ‘No action should be taken which would indicate that Syria was necessarily to remain under Free French control’.164 After successfully ousting General Dentz and the Vichy administration from Syria, the British government as a whole was forced to confront a situation in which competing French, Syrian, Lebanese and Arab ideas of nationalism were of primary importance. By publicly supporting a policy of independence, Britain hoped to strengthen its own reputation throughout the Middle East and particularly in Palestine. The following chapters will build upon these early efforts, identifying how changes in the broader wartime context, including the entry of the United States into the war and the growing likelihood of Allied victory, configured the contours of British Middle Eastern strategy. In particular, this approach will consider how publicly espoused policy actually limited material responses to the French arrest of the Lebanese Parliament in 1943 and the bombardment of Damascus in 1945. Amongst the British public, the Exporter operations were initially criticised for progressing too slowly, an outcome that was attributed to misplaced sympathy for Vichy troops. On the other hand, from the beginning, British officials believed that the operation would be more successful if it was represented as a Free French initiative. British policy-makers in the 162 163 164

Thomas, French Empire, 108. Télégramme, de Gaulle au Cassin, 1 August 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN. War Cabinet, Committee on Foreign (Allied) Resistance (Syria), GB165-0269 Box 1 File 4, MECA.

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Cabinet and Foreign Office hoped that this approach would increase the legitimacy of the operation and forestall Vichy and Axis propaganda. But stiff opposition from Vichy troops and the general unpopularity of the Free French amongst the local population led to further complications. This was especially evident in the extent to which British rhetoric tried to shore up both the Anglo-Free French and the Anglo-Arab relationships. The British could not simultaneously support Gaullist policy, which persisted in maintaining France’s ‘rightful’ place in the Levant and polish its image amongst Arab nationalists. Unless, that is, the latter were willing to conclude a treaty in line with French demands. But both British and Free French officials recognised that images of Franco-British alliance were essential to maintaining the credibility of their narratives of Allied victory and French liberation. Visible cracks in the partnership would make it difficult to combat Vichy’s accusations of British perfidy and the historic Franco-British rivalry. From a strategic point of view, the ongoing conflict and the pressing need to reallocate scarce men and resources meant that unrest in either the Levant or the broader Middle East was highly undesirable. When push came to shove, the British would choose regional security and longterm prestige over placating Free French desires for continued influence. The British were careful to construct a rhetoric that was based around promises of independence, thereby assuring themselves of local support. The following weeks and months would see these claims tested by de Gaulle’s reluctance to give up the territory without concluding the preferential treaty he was demanding. Exporter established the groundwork for a shift from an Anglo-Vichy to an Anglo-Gaullist conflict based on a by now familiar rhetoric of sovereignty and imperial rights.

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6

Operation Torch American Influence and the Battle for French North Africa

In the early morning hours of 8 November 1942, Anglo-American forces moved into action. Their goal was to consolidate Allied power in French North Africa, which remained loyal to the Vichy government. Operation Torch was a turning point in the Allied struggle. For the first time, American forces took the lead in a military operation. But American predominance was not solely a question of material resources. It was also a strategy designed to persuade Vichy troops to decamp to the Allies. American President Franklin Delano Roosevelt and the Combined Chiefs of Staff (CCS) hoped that by promoting Torch as an opportunity for Franco-American cooperation, they would avoid the resistance associated with British ventures and notions of Franco-British rivalry. America’s entry into the war in December 1941 gave the Allies a muchneeded injection of men and materials. It also shifted the wartime narrative. Some of these narratives, such as the promise of victory, held firm. Others, including expectations for post-war reconstruction and the future of empire began to change. Previous studies have analysed in great detail the broader political, military and logistical aspects of these operations.1 However, Torch was much more than a military endeavour. It showcased the dominance of American power. This shift in the balance of power also altered (in subtle and more obvious ways) the rhetoric of the conflict. From the moment that planning for Torch began, rhetoric was used as a tool to legitimise the operations. In addition to appealing to public sentiment in Britain and metropolitan France, Anglo-American planners wanted to offer territorial assurances to neutral states, including Franco’s Spain and Salazar’s Portugal. They also sought to placate Vichy troops

1

See, for instance, Arthur Layton Funk, The Politics of Torch: The Allied Landings and the Algiers Putsch 1942 (Lawrence, Kansas: The University Press of Kansas, 1974). Keith Sainsbury, The North African Landings 1942: A Strategic Decision (London: DavisPoynter, 1976). Peter Mangold, Britain and the Defeated French: From Occupation to Liberation, 1940–1944 (London: I. B. Tauris, 2012), Chapter 11.

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and white settlers in Algeria and manage the demands of the Soviet Union. Having entered the conflict in June 1941 following invasion by German troops, the Soviets had been pressuring the Allies to open a second front. This would lift some of the burden from beleaguered Soviet troops. Roosevelt used rhetoric to portray Torch as an effective second front even though it fell far short of this level of commitment. Neither Churchill, Roosevelt, nor the CCS believed that Torch met Soviet Leader Joseph Stalin’s demands. Rhetoric, then, was used as a means to confirm wartime ideals. It was also a way to publicly declare that Torch fulfilled Anglo-American commitments to their Soviet allies. Orchestrating Allied justifications for carrying out the Torch invasions involved a complex array of letters, statements, leaflets and broadcasts. Each communication tried to anticipate – and thus to pre-empt – varying levels of dissent from numerous interested parties. The commanders of the Anglo-American task force believed that it was of primary importance that North Africa be captured with a minimum of resistance from Vichy forces. The implications of this objective were far reaching in moulding the nature of the operation itself, strategically and rhetorically. In particular, this goal necessitated that Torch’s senior American commanders retained great flexibility in their dealings with the Vichy officials in situ. After the landings, Roosevelt played a central role in maintaining Admiral François Darlan as head of government in French North Africa. The so-called ‘Darlan deal’ was condemned by British public and parliamentary opinion. In sharp contrast to the willingness evident amongst the American press and public to accept Darlan’s assistance as a matter of military necessity, the British response betrayed a deeply personal connection to the moral identity of the war. British decision-makers found themselves in the position of having to justify a policy that contradicted its earlier narratives of a just and moral war. Ministry of Information (MOI) Home Intelligence Reports indicated that the criticism in the British mass media of the Darlan affair derived from moral qualms rather than strategic doubts about the wisdom of the North African landings. Public valuations of military progress, or indeed victory, were, as in previous operations, being measured against certain ethical standards. The Joint Planning Staff (JPS) knew this, and its members wielded discrete rhetorical strategies to try to reconcile competing military and political agendas. The JPS recognised that the decision to work with Darlan needed to be justified and, in some measure, played down. Responding to harsh criticism at home, official British rhetoric tried to distance British policy from any deals made with Darlan by shifting the focus to the American leadership. Churchill attempted to soften the policy by refusing outright

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to discuss the deal on the floor of the House of Commons. Both stratagems pointed to an underlying acknowledgement that the agreements made were perhaps neither as temporary nor as contingent as public and parliamentary sentiment would have liked. Explicit promises to remove Darlan from his role as head of the Algiers government could not be made in good faith. The decision to work with Darlan also had a wider impact. It damaged the legitimacy of the pro-Allied resistance movements sponsored by the British Special Operations Executive (SOE) and the American Office of Strategic Services (OSS).2 The arguments that arose around the Darlan deal highlighted the tensions between policies based on military expediency and policies perceived as moral compromise. From the inception of Torch, until Darlan’s assassination on 24 December 1942, the Allies found themselves trying to align the operations with the expectations of diverse interest groups – at home, in the empire and within the alliance itself. Planning Operation Torch: American Leadership and the Second Front For much of 1942, the Allied war effort was suffering a series of military defeats and setbacks. In the Far East, Malaya, the Philippines, the Dutch East Indies and Burma fell to Japan. German General Erwin Rommel’s 26 May offensive captured Tobruk, a huge blow to the Allies in the Middle East. Seven days after the Tobruk victory, Hitler launched a powerful summer offensive in the Soviet zone.3 In August, the Canadian assault force sent to capture the port of Dieppe in northern France was nearly annihilated. The operation was meant to be an intelligence gathering exercise and an opportunity to test landing capabilities. Its success would have boosted morale in Britain and France by showing Allied strength and commitment to retaking mainland Europe. Japanese advances, in particular the fall of Singapore in February, also set in motion British plans to invade Madagascar. This operation, which excluded Free French participation, increased tensions between the British government and de Gaulle, already on the rise due to clashes over the governance of Syria and Lebanon. Decision-makers in the Foreign Office 2

3

Philip Bell, ‘British Public Opinion and the Darlan Deal: November–December 1942’, Journal of the British Institute in Paris, no. 7 (1989): 71–79. T. C. Wales, ‘The “Massingham” Mission and the Secret “Special Relationship”: Cooperation and Rivalry between the Anglo-American Clandestine Services in French North Africa, November 1942–May 1943’, Intelligence and National Security 20, no. 1 (2005): 44–71. Desmond Dinan, The Politics of Persuasion: British Policy and French African Neutrality, 1940–1942 (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1988), 241.

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and service ministries insisted that Free French involvement would jeopardise the secrecy of the operation and risk a second Dakar.4 Governed by ardent Pétainist Paul Annet, Madagascar was strategically important. If the Vichy government allowed Japanese forces to use the island as an operational base, this would jeopardise the security of the Indian Ocean and hamper communications between Britain, South Africa and the Australian dominions. Operation Ironclad commenced on 5 May 1942. The British gained complete control of the island six months later, with a final armistice signed on 6 November. By this time, planning for the North African invasions was nearly complete. Although the British government had announced on 14 May that Free France would play a role in political considerations in Madagascar, the timing of Free French involvement remained unclear, much to de Gaulle’s anger.5 British reluctance to hand over the reins to de Gaulle in Madagascar reflected the continued unpopularity of the Free French across the island, ongoing suspicions of Free French incompetence amongst the Chiefs of Staff (COS) and the growing influence of American authorities, many of whom remained sceptical of if not hostile towards de Gaulle’s movement. Planning for Operation Torch thus began in the midst of both military setbacks and shifting interallied relationships. The British war effort faced criticism at home. In July, Churchill had undergone a parliamentary vote of no confidence, although he passed it easily. The AngloGaullist relationship was strained as a result of disagreements over Free France’s role in the Middle East and its exclusion from the Madagascar operations. And for the first time, British decision-makers were under pressure from their relatively new Soviet and American partners. The Anglo-Soviet relationship was never an easy one. Britain’s failure to conclude an agreement with Stalin prior to the outbreak of war, the later conclusion of the Molotov–Ribbentrop pact and core ideological and political differences meant that both parties continued to harbour deep suspicions over the other’s wartime intentions. Although British public opinion favoured close cooperation with the Soviet Union, British policy largely settled on a more arms-length approach. Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden met Stalin for the first time on 16 December 1941. The meeting was tense throughout because Eden refused to agree to recognise Stalin’s territorial demands. Stalin also criticised Britain for not providing sufficient material support and for leaving Soviet troops to draw 4 5

Martin Thomas, ‘Imperial Backwater or Strategic Outpost? The British Takeover of Vichy Madagascar, 1942’, The Historical Journal 39, no. 4 (1996): 1055. Ibid., 1062.

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the bulk of German firepower. After significant Soviet and media pressure, on 5 December 1941, Britain declared war on Finland, Romania and Hungary. This declaration was a symbolic rather than an immediate material commitment to Soviet demands for a second front. On 26 May 1942, an Anglo-Soviet treaty was signed. It provided for mutual help and assistance during and after the war and prohibited either side from concluding a separate peace. During his visit to Moscow that August, Churchill faced unrelenting pressure from Stalin for the opening of a second front. While the British premier precluded a risky landing in France, he came away from the Russian capital convinced that action in 1942 was crucial in order to reassure the Soviets. Roosevelt agreed.6 Anglo-American negotiations at the Washington-based Arcadia Conference in December 1941 had already illustrated this shared desire to conclude a successful offensive action before the end of 1942. A second front would remove pressure from the Russians fighting in Stalingrad while also satisfying growing public demands, particularly in the United States, for a grand offensive gesture. However, Anglo-American relations had their own share of challenges. Early in 1942, Churchill and Roosevelt clashed over the future of India. Roosevelt also had his own ideas about post-war power structures. He did not view France as a great power, and this belief would place Britain in the difficult position of balancing between American power and French demands and expectations. Churchill was an early advocate of launching an Allied operation in French North Africa. Its proximity to Libya and Egypt made it strategically important. And the French Delegate General of North Africa, Maxime Weygand, was rumoured to be sympathetic to the Allies.7 However, the American military establishment under Secretary of War Henry Stimson initially opposed this policy. American Chief of Staff General George Marshall submitted American proposals for a small-scale cross-channel attack in 1942 (Operation Sledgehammer), followed by a large-scale invasion of Western Europe in 1943 (Operation Round-up). However, his British counterpart, Chief of the Imperial General Staff, Sir Alan Brooke was hesitant, as was Churchill. Scholars have described these negotiations as the last time that Britain was able to successfully challenge American plans.8 In reality, Roosevelt’s personal preference for the North African operation also encouraged the Allies along this course of action. Churchill also attributed Head of the British Military 6 7 8

David Reynolds, In Command of History: Churchill Fighting and Writing the Second World War (London: Allen Lane, 2004), 316. Weygand succeeded Admiral Jean-Marie Abrial in this post on 17 July 1941. Sainsbury, North African Landings, 9. Dinan, Persuasion, 240.

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Mission in Washington and close friend of Marshall, General John Dill, with helping to seal the North African policy.9 In a meeting on 25 July 1942, the CCS agreed to prioritise the North African invasions. A joint Anglo-American planning staff immediately set to work drafting plans from their base at Norfolk House, London. On 14 August, they appointed American General Dwight D. Eisenhower as Allied commander-in-chief and the battle-seasoned Admiral Andrew Cunningham as Allied naval commander of Expeditionary Force. On 29 September and 2 October, the American and British COS approved the plans and operational orders were issued on 8 October.10 When planning had begun in earnest that August, it became clear that the success of the landings would depend on the level of resistance encountered by the Vichy forces. Political intelligence provided by Robert D. Murphy, the US State Department representative stationed in North Africa, concluded that the British were strongly disliked in the region. However, the Americans were not.11 This observation had two repercussions. First, the CCS agreed that the landings would be represented as American in order to avoid arousing anti-British sentiment from local forces still resentful about the clashes at Mers el-Kébir, Dakar and Syria. Some of the Vichy French troops stationed in the region had fought in Syria against British–Free French troops.12 This decision would have subsequent, and arguably beneficial, consequences for Britain. It would allow Churchill’s government to distance itself from the decision to collaborate with Darlan. Second, Free French leader Charles de Gaulle was to play no part in planning the operation.13 Roosevelt insisted that de Gaulle could have no knowledge of the invasions until after the landings had taken place. From the beginning, policy-makers believed that the success of Torch depended upon how it was interpreted within North Africa – as an act of American assistance rather than British aggression. These assumptions influenced how the planning committee prepared its justifications of the invasions. Murphy’s intelligence had indicated that Vichy forces were less likely to resist an American invasion. This led planners to the conclusion that resistance itself was not inevitable and was at least in part symbolic. Although fighting alongside the British, the 9 10 11 12 13

Ibid., 247. Captain S. W. Roskill, The War at Sea 1939–1945, Vol. 3, The Period of Balance (London: Her Majesty’s Stationary Office, 1956), 312. Andrew Cunningham, A Sailor’s Odyssey (London: Hutchinson, 1951), 478. Chantal Metzger, Le Maghreb dans la Guerre 1939–1945 (Malakoff: Armand Colin, 2018), 151. Renamed the Fighting French in July 1942. The term Free French will continue to be used for the sake of clarity and consistency.

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Americans had not precipitated attacks on Vichy installations. The US had offered full diplomatic recognition to the Vichy government. Even more importantly, historic Franco-American relations were suffused with examples of cooperation rather than imperial rivalry. The Foreign Office agreed that emphasising the appearance of American leadership during the landings would be beneficial. Information gathered by twelve American Vice Consuls in North Africa, who were also acting as spies, suggested that servicemen’s morale in North Africa was declining. This was due to an increasing dislike of Vichy Foreign Minister Pierre Laval’s collaborationist policies (Laval had returned to office on 14 April 1942) and rising German demands for French food and workers. Laval’s reinstatement was also a substantial blow to FrancoAmerican relations. The State Department recalled Vichy ambassador Admiral Leahy for consultations, and the administration suspended the supply of goods to Morocco.14 However, the French Navy remained strongly Anglophobic. Although the army and air force were inclined to be more sympathetic towards Britain, it was reported that they were even more pro-American.15 Communications between the Foreign Office and Lord Halifax, now British Ambassador to the United States, recognised that, despite joint planning of Torch, the operation must ‘in its initial stages bear a predominantly American appearance’.16 Churchill wrote to Roosevelt in late October suggesting that the American Atlantic Flotilla loan four American destroyers to sail with British units inside the Mediterranean. He believed that offensive action by the French fleet would be reduced by the presence of these tag-alongs, and the auspicious presence of the American flag.17 In the case of de Gaulle and his Free French movement, the British knew that associating his cause with the invasions would stiffen Vichy resistance. Vichy’s understandable insistence on delegitimising de Gaulle and his movement had already registered tangible repercussions in past Anglo-Free French operations. At Dakar and Syria, for example, local garrisons had fought unexpectedly hard. However, a JPS report warned that excluding de Gaulle from Torch not only risked a crisis in Anglo-Gaullist relations, but it also threatened to ‘damage his prestige in 14 15

16 17

Dinan, Persuasion, 244. Memorandum, ‘Views recently expressed by Colonel Eddy, Colonel Solberg and Colonel Strong about atmosphere in French North Africa’, 27 August 1942, PREM 3/349/20B, The National Archives (henceforth TNA). Foreign Office to Halifax, 16 September 1942, FO 371/32134, TNA. Churchill to Roosevelt, C-169, 21 October 1942 in Warren F. Kimball ed., Churchill and Roosevelt the Complete Correspondence, vol. 1, Alliance Emerging October 1933– November 1942 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), 634.

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Metropolitan France, where his name has a strong symbolic value as a focus of resistance …’.18 Responding to this report, Churchill expressed his own, rather more pessimistic, belief that both the military and civil authorities, as well as the majority of the French population in North Africa, were already hostile to de Gaulle and to the British.19 Ultimately, Churchill presented only token resistance to Roosevelt’s demands to keep the Free French in the dark about the Torch operation. Churchill did suggest informing de Gaulle of the landings a few hours before they were due to take place. Roosevelt vetoed this idea, and Churchill presented little objection.20 Churchill later told de Gaulle that he was not included in the North African landings because it was ‘a United States enterprise and a United States secret’. To placate him, Churchill planned to allow de Gaulle to announce General Paul Legentilhomme as the governor general of Madagascar that Friday. This carrot, Churchill informed Roosevelt, ‘we have been keeping for his consolation prize’.21 Free French involvement in Madagascar was used by British authorities as a ‘bargaining chip’ to keep de Gaulle in line when he objected to British policies in the Levant and French North Africa.22 Roosevelt never doubted that de Gaulle should be denied knowledge of the operation. He told Churchill that the announcement of the governor general would be perfectly adequate to save de Gaulle from any embarrassment or loss of prestige.23 However, Roosevelt’s personal dislike of de Gaulle and his willingness to deal with other Frenchmen over de Gaulle’s head would become a source of tension in the Anglo-Gaullist and the Anglo-American relationship.24 Meanwhile, the Anglo-American planning committee moved forward on the assumption that the appearance of American leadership and initiative would positively affect the outcome of the Torch invasions. In the initial landings, they believed that both British and Gaullist elements would compromise the ability of troops to consolidate local support quickly. Roosevelt himself was so sure of pro-American sentiment that he considered resistance to American landing personnel unlikely. 18 19 20

21 22 23 24

JPS report, ‘Joint Political and Economic Action with U.S. Government’, 16 August 1942, FO 371/32133, TNA. Churchill to Strang, 21 August 1942, FO 371/32133, TNA. Alexander Cadogan, Churchill’s permanent undersecretary for Foreign Affairs wrote privately that he thought Roosevelt’s insistence that de Gaulle be told nothing until after the first landings was silly. David Dilks, ed., The Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan 1938–1945 (London: Cassell, 1971), 489. Churchill to Roosevelt, C-185, 5 November 1942, Kimball, Alliance Emerging, 660. Thomas, ‘Imperial Backwater’, 1073. Roosevelt to Churchill, 5 November 1942, PREM 3/349/20A, TNA. François Kersaudy, Churchill and De Gaulle (London: Fontana Press, 1990), 217–218.

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This belief would prove misguided. In the course of September and October, each side began coordinating a series of press releases, broadcasts, appeals and literature that it believed would play a vital role in consolidating support for the operation in a number of crucial spheres. The informational material and statements were produced largely by the American side of the planning staff but were critiqued by the Foreign Office. They appealed to the white settler population within North Africa and also addressed the people of metropolitan France, drawing historic and emotive links between American intervention in 1917 and in 1942. After some debate, the planning staff also agreed to depict Torch as a kind of second front. This decision made public the claim that the Allies were pulling their weight in the war. However, the construction of the invasions as the first step towards impending liberation and Allied victory only months after a series of bitter defeats ran into complications. Political and military aspects of the operations began to clash with public perceptions of the moral direction of the war. Rhetorical Strategies for Operation Torch The publicity surrounding the Torch operations was nuanced and multifaceted. It had to appeal to a wide range of interest groups, each of which expected the operations to satisfy its own demands. We know that one of these groups was Soviet leaders, who were demanding the opening of a second front. Another was the British public. In late October, Home Intelligence Reports noted a worrying decline in public engagement with the conflict. This was attributed to the series of recent military disappointments.25 At the same time, public opinion was uniting around the expectation that something significant was about to happen: an offensive move, ‘which has been anxiously awaited so long’.26 The American Office of War Information drafted a series of press releases and broadcasts that targeted additional interest groups: the North African population, the people of France, the American public and the neutral states of Spain and Portugal. The planning staff wanted to tread carefully around the imperial sensibilities of Iberian leaders Francisco Franco and António Salazar. Taking control of strategically vital French colonial territory, particularly French Morocco, could be viewed as an affront that would drive neutral Spain and Portugal into the war on the side of the Axis powers. French Morocco was at this time under the proLaval leadership of Resident General Charles Noguès. 25 26

Home Intelligence Weekly Report No. 107, 22 October 1942, INF 1/292, TNA. Ibid.

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North African publicity was also complex. Administratively, the region had strong ties with metropolitan France. Internally, fractious relations between Arabs, Jews and French settlers (who swung towards conservatism) made it difficult to craft explanations for the invasions that would appeal uniformly to each group. French North Africa was also home to 120,000 Italians and 76,500 Spaniards.27 Since the 1930s, the region had experienced a sharp rise in anti-colonial nationalism. Algeria’s largest and most coherent nationalist group, Messali Hadj’s Parti du Peuple Algérien (Algerian People’s Party), grew in strength alongside Tunisia’s Neó-Destour (Liberal Constitutional Party) and the Moroccan Action Committee. Depression-era challenges had helped to shift the nature of nationalist movements, from elitist and bourgeoisie pursuits to populist movements whose unity was underwritten by powerful trade unions.28 By 1941, chronic shortages of fuel and food across North Africa were being cited by nationalist groups (operating underground after being banned between 1937 and 1939) as proof of the material and moral failure of the French colonial system.29 However, in contrast to the Levant operations, publicity surrounding Torch prioritised gaining support from the metropolitan French population and French colonialists in North Africa. In 1942, local voices mattered very little because there was much less of an immediate threat of coherent nationalist action.30 American publicity for Operation Torch prioritised the desire to minimise resistance from Vichy forces. Its messages were similar in tone to earlier British operational justifications. British Foreign Office staff believed that their American counterparts at the Office of War Information should base Roosevelt’s messages to French leaders on previous British statements. The resulting American communiqués asserted that German occupation of North Africa was imminent and that Allied intervention was necessary and inevitable to forestall such a disaster. Highly reminiscent of the operations at Dakar, one memo advised explaining the arrival of American troops as a pre-emptive salvation from German 27 28

29 30

Christine Levisse-Touzé, ‘L’Afrique du Nord pendant la Seconde Guerre Mondiale’, Relations Internationales no. 77 (Spring 1994): 9. Ibid. Martin Thomas, ‘The Gendarmerie, Information Collection, and Colonial Violence in French North Africa between the Wars’, Historical Reflections 36, no. 2 (Summer 2010): 87. Martin Thomas, ‘Resource War, Civil War, Rights War: Factoring Empire into French North Africa’s Second World War’, War in History 18, no. 2 (2011): 233, 238. This is not to say that colonial administrators were not aware of the potential for nationalist uprisings, even if the Paris provisional government retained the belief that the empire could be rebuilt. From the summer of 1944, French intelligence predicted that widespread disorder would break out in urban North Africa as soon as the war was over. Thomas, ‘Resource War’, 243–247.

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occupation. Intervention was devised ‘to secure this area for France at the request of patriotic Frenchmen who have called upon their friends for assistance’.31 Early communiqués stressed that the invasions were primarily American in nature. The British played a supporting role in the air and through naval action. No mention would be made of the involvement of British ground troops. This decision was a product of the belief that Anglophobic sentiment within North Africa could have a significantly adverse impact upon the course of the operation. Two documents were to be released immediately after the operation commenced. The first was an initial military communiqué and the second a broadcast message to the French people recorded in French by Roosevelt. The Foreign Office did not think much of Roosevelt’s recording, which they described as, at most, intelligible. In it, Roosevelt argued predictably that the operations had become necessary in order to deal with the threat of Axis incursion.32 Roosevelt’s broadcast was to be issued simultaneously with the military communiqué and was addressed to both metropolitan France and French North Africa. The Foreign Office felt that it was crucial not to address the local population of French North Africa in a separate address. Historic anti-imperial American rhetoric might lead Vichy to suspect, or at least accuse, America of using the invasions to foster local independence movements.33 The Foreign Office requested a number of edits to the American documents. These requests demonstrated that British decision-makers were willing to prioritise the American complexion of the operation at its inception. But they insisted upon maintaining and receiving credit for the landings as a joint endeavour after British troops had also established themselves on the ground. Roosevelt’s initial broadcast to the French people made no reference to British forces and was given only in the name of the United States. Following Foreign Office requests, a line was modified to refer to the United Nations. This would make it easier for the British to integrate their role in later communiqués.34 The revised address read: ‘The Americans, with the help of the United Nations, are doing all that they can to ensure a sound future, as well as the restitution of ideals, of liberties and of democracy to all those who have lived under the Tricolour’.35 31 32 33 34 35

‘Suggested Points to be Included in the President’s Messages to French Leaders’, 23 September 1942, FO 371/32134, TNA. ‘French Text of First American Communiqué’, 6 November 1942, PREM 3/437/1, TNA. ‘Suggested Points for Presidential Proclamation’, 23 September 1942, FO 371/32134, TNA. Minutes by C. N. Stirling, 16 October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA. Text of Roosevelt’s Broadcast, 5 November 1942, PREM 3/437/1, TNA.

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A British statement expressing full support for American actions would be issued after the two American communications. A joint Anglo-American communiqué in the form of a broadcast and a leaflet was aimed exclusively at metropolitan France. The two allies hoped to forestall any premature attempts within the metropole to try and overthrow the Germans. They believed this would provoke total occupation. The communications urged the people of metropolitan France to ‘remain calm but on the alert’, as ‘we enter today, into the offensive phase of the War of Liberation’.36 Roosevelt believed that it was essential to carry French opinion on the side of American operations. Sensitive to the closeness of past American diplomatic relations with Vichy, Marshall stressed that no direct statement should be made – or line be taken – towards Vichy. Policy should be portrayed only as working towards the ‘defeat of the axis powers and the preservation of French administration in the colonies’.37 The Allied messages enhanced the significance of Torch by representing it as a first step towards liberation and a turning point (the offensive phase) in the conflict. Allied communiqués argued that Torch represented the liberation and moral rebirth of territory under Axis control. The Foreign Office gave the Office of War Information precise recommendations for consolidating French support based on its previous tactics. It suggested emphasising the role that Germany was playing in destroying the French nation and empire. These depictions should make it clear that the French population was entirely opposed to pro-German policies ‘in which they had no voice whatsoever and against which they had protested at the cost of lives and suffering’.38 Readers should be reminded that German abuses of France extended far beyond the economic realm by describing ‘the German plan to destroy France morally, as in other fields she is endeavouring to destroy her physically’.39 The British communiqué published in support of American action likewise elevated the significance of the operations. They would restore ‘the independence and greatness of France’.40 These publications made France a great and moral nation, but only through its association with Allied forces. By calling upon Vichy forces to lay down their arms, the Allies also portrayed themselves as a benign force, which had no designs upon French sovereignty or imperial rights. 36 37 38 39 40

Joint American and British declaration to French people, 4 November 1942, PREM 3/437/1, TNA. Marshall to Eisenhower, 13 October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA. ‘Suggested Lines of Propaganda for O.W.I.’, 25 September 1942, FO 371/32134, TNA. Ibid. Draft Statement, ‘British Statement to be issued in support of U.S. broadcast’, October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA.

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We know that the issue of French metropolitan and imperial sovereignty was at the root of tensions between Britain and the Vichy government after the collapse of France. American involvement in the war altered the rhetoric of these debates and complicated the AngloAmerican relationship. In October, a joint Anglo-American report suggested using psychological warfare to increase support for the Allied war effort in France and the French Empire. It used images of historic Franco-American cooperation to remind French audiences that Americans could be trusted to keep their word, even when it came to preserving the integrity of the French Empire. This kind of language was criticised in the Foreign Office. British policy-makers viewed repeated American promises to guard the French Empire as offensive to British guarantees. They objected especially to proposals that an American statement should pledge ‘that Great Britain’s assurances that French territory will be restored are fully supported in fact, law and morality by the pledged word of the American Government and People’.41 Previous operations involving French colonial territory and the French fleet had already heightened imperial tensions. Speculations concerning the integrity of British intentions had already been raised in both Vichy and Gaullist quarters. Franco-British relations were at the same time deteriorating in the Levant. Promises that appeared to insinuate British bad faith would undermine British credibility and prestige while also fanning the flames of imperial rivalry. American rhetoric, however, continued to rely on historic imagery that focussed exclusively on the Franco-American relationship, to the detriment of its British partners. Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden described the American attitude towards France as the ‘Lafayette problem’. He believed that the Americans thought that they knew better how to deal with the French than their British counterparts.42 Between 8 and 9 November, the RAF dropped nearly 22.5 million leaflets over occupied and unoccupied France.43 They contained messages from Roosevelt and Eisenhower but made scant references to British contributions. Included in these leaflets were nearly 5.5 million copies of an eight-page illustrated folder. It was ‘strongly emotional – recalling by photographic illustrations, [the] U.S.A.’s participation in France 1917–1918’.44 The pamphlet was also inspired by much earlier examples of cooperation. 41 42 43 44

Foreign Office to US Major R. Le Mesurier, 17 October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA. Mangold, Defeated French, 158. ‘Leaflets dropped over France November 8th & 9th’, November 1942, FO 898/515, TNA. ‘Annexes to working plan for psychological warfare for France and the French Empire’, October 1942, FO 898/131, TNA.

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The first page featured a black and white image of the Statue of Liberty, over which flew in vibrant colour French and American flags. A fullpage photograph of Les Invalides depicted French and American troops on 4 July 1917 commemorating Franco-American cooperation during the American Revolutionary War. The photo was titled ‘Une fraternité ancienne nous unit’ and its caption quoted Lafayette’s address to the American Congress in 1824.45 The emphasis throughout was on American troops and American arms. Earlier, Churchill had proposed dropping leaflets in North Africa that would explain the role of British ground forces. Roosevelt refused this request. Churchill’s reluctant acquiescence in the matter only highlighted American dominance in determining the rhetoric of the Torch operations.46 The materials that were distributed during Torch attempted to create an image of Franco-American cooperation and partnership where British attempts had failed. At the same time, the British and American press were instructed to avoid drawing attention to resistance offered by Vichy troops and to ‘give the impression that our forces landed as allies’.47 During the final preparations for the landings, Roosevelt shared a press release with Churchill. Although its intended audience was the American public, this and other releases found their way into the British press. This communiqué set the tone for overall interpretations of the invasions. It described the landings as the key turning point in the war and attributed the bulk of the credit to the Americans, despite referencing for the first time impending British ground reinforcement.48 The statement also returned to the question of the second front. British ambassador in Moscow, Archibald Clark Kerr, wrote to the Foreign Office as early as 17 October with his own advice for Torch. ‘When it comes to its psychological effect upon the Russian people, which we must naturally wish to be important and stimulating, [it] will depend largely, if not entirely, upon the way in which the operation is presented to them’.49 However, early Political Warfare Executive analyses concluded that portrayals of Torch as a second front would not be credible. Rather, the operations should be presented as a step towards a second front.50

45 46 47 48 49 50

Illustrated folder titled ‘Souvenez-vous’, November 1942, FO 898/515, TNA. Churchill to Roosevelt, 6 November 1942, PREM 3/437/3, TNA. Minute, Eden to Churchill, 21 October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA. ‘Annexes to working plan for psychological warfare for France and the French Empire’, October 1942, FO 898/131, TNA. Roosevelt to Churchill, 27 October 1942, PREM 3/437/1, TNA. Moscow to Foreign Office, 17 October 1942, PREM 3/439/20A, TNA. ‘Appreciation of the political warfare situation in Western Europe in the light of Torch’, 15 October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA.

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Even the original press directive issued by the Foreign Office was clear that the invasions should not be referred to as a second front. However, these instructions were altered after Roosevelt submitted his press release.51 In late October, Roosevelt expressed to Churchill his desire to be able to make the argument to Stalin that Torch satisfied Allied obligations towards the Soviet Union.52 The American press release blatantly characterised the invasions as providing ‘effective Second Front assistance to our heroic Allies in Russia’.53 This outcome had benefits for Britain as well. A confident statement could dampen Soviet anger over Britain’s refusals to launch an immediate attack on the German rear.54 Churchill wrote to Eden and Permanent Undersecretary for Foreign Affairs Alexander Cadogan that he believed describing Torch as a second front would get them out of a tight spot with their Eastern allies.55 The conscious decision to portray the North African operations as a fulfilment of Soviet demands illustrated the importance of presentation in foreign policy and of putting pressure on allies through rhetoric. Torch was the first major joint Anglo-American operation. More importantly, it was the first time that the British ceded so much operational and rhetorical initiative to its new ally. However, operational commanders Eisenhower and Cunningham soon found themselves reacting to a situation on the ground that was vastly different from what they had anticipated. This would force the Allies to justify highly controversial and unforeseen decisions. Reactions to Operation Torch, Collaborating with Darlan and the Moral Hazard Operation Torch commenced early on 8 November. There were points of attack in Morocco (Port Lyautey, Fédala and Safi) and Algeria (Algiers, Arzew and Oran). Approximately 96,000 British and American soldiers took part in the initial naval attack.56 The attack included approximately 70,000 British and American assault troops and at Algiers and Oran a maritime force of 340 British ships.57 The landings at Algiers met with relatively little opposition, but there was fierce resistance from local naval

51 52 53 54 55 56 57

‘General propaganda directive for Torch’, 3 November 1942, FO 371/32136, TNA. Roosevelt to Churchill, R-202, 27 October 1942, Kimball, Alliance Emerging, 653. Roosevelt to Churchill, 27 October 1942, PREM 3/437/1, TNA. Richard Overy, Why the Allies Won (London: Pimlico, 2006), 123. Churchill to Eden and Cadogan, 30 October 1942, PREM 3/437/3, TNA. Metzger, Le Maghreb dans la Guerre, 150. Roskill, Period of Balance, 313, 320.

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forces and L’Armée d’Afrique, under the command of General Robert Boissau at Oran.58 American troops landing in Morocco also encountered strong opposition. The operation would encounter further resistance in the months that followed, as American troops pushed eastwards in an effort to capture Tunisia.59 Eisenhower’s deputy commander, General Mark Clark, who Cunningham described as having a ‘rather predatorylooking nose’, had landed west of Algiers just prior to the attacks.60 His remit was to contact and win over the French military authorities.61 Eisenhower believed that the operation’s success hinged on it being able to establish a working relationship with French leaders in North Africa. He saw military occupation of French North Africa as too costly in terms of men and materials.62 These views would significantly impact the choices that the Allies made throughout and after the operations. The Allies’ initial aim was to install General Henri Giraud as the region’s new leader in the wake of the operation. Giraud had been picked up by the British submarine Sibyl from a beach near Toulon on the night of 6 November. He had sterling resistance credentials, having escaped from a German prisoner of war camp earlier that April. At the same time, his personal loyalty to Vichy leader Marshal Philippe Pétain made him an obvious candidate to take up leadership in Algiers.63 However, increasing resistance against American troops, coupled with the fact that the ‘King Pin’ was both unrecognised and quite unpopular, placed this plan in jeopardy. Further complicating matters, the Allies had not planned on Admiral Darlan being in North Africa during the invasions. Darlan had travelled to Algiers to be with his ailing son and quickly became involved in negotiations to stem fighting. He also fanned Allied hopes that he could persuade the fleet and Dakar to join their side. Eisenhower, echoing the sentiments of other military reports at the time, argued that the mentality in North Africa was completely different from what he had anticipated. ‘Any proposal was acceptable only if “the Marshall would wish it”’.64 Giraud was so unpopular that 58 59

60 61 62 63 64

Dwight D. Eisenhower, Crusade in Europe (New York: Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1952), 103. Metzger, Le Maghreb dans la Guerre, 163. Governor General of Tunisia, Jean-Pierre Estava was strongly in favour of the Pétain government. German troops would eventually occupy Tunisia between November and May 1943. For a history of this occupation, see Metzger, Le Maghreb dans la Guerre, Part 3, Chapter 2. Cunningham, Sailor’s Odyssey, 477. Roskill, Period of Balance, 322. Eisenhower, Crusade in Europe, 110. Julian Jackson, France the Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 222. Ibid., 105.

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Eisenhower went as far as to advise that publication of his name in North Africa should be avoided.65 Eisenhower’s belief that only Darlan who had the authority to issue orders in the name of Pétain was criticised by the British and, to a lesser extent, the American media. Darlan’s involvement with the Allies also divided opinion within the French metropole and increased Anglo-Gaullist tensions. Critics argued that ‘collaboration’ with Darlan was not in keeping with the type of moral war that the Allies claimed to be fighting. De Gaulle took full advantage of his exclusion from the operations to place himself on the moral high ground and garner support and sympathy from the broader public. Responses to the landings released through the Comité national français (French National Committee [CNF]), which had replaced the Empire Defence Council in September 1941, were scathing and clearly distinguished between Gaullist policies and Allied actions. In Britain, public reactions to the operations formed in response to three operational developments. These included: (1) initial reactions to the invasions, (2) responses to the 13 November agreement making Darlan head of the civil government and Giraud head of armed forces and (3) reactions to the 22 November Clark–Darlan agreement. This final agreement put an end to French resistance and made Darlan High Commissioner of French North Africa. The landings set in motion a flurry of planned media activity. Radio addresses by Roosevelt and Eisenhower were broadcast, British assurances of full support and backing were issued and RAF planes dropped millions of leaflets over metropolitan France. Vichy issued its own statements, calling on its citizens not to be deceived by foreign radio addresses. Here too, the historic Franco-American relationship did not go unnoticed. Vichy communications reminded listeners that the source of the attacks was, shockingly, a nation for which France had once shed its own blood.66 Despite Allied attempts to depict the operation as an American one, the Vichy press identified the ‘agression’ as being perpetrated by both American and British forces. Vichy also published a ‘Chronique des agressions britanniques contre la France’, which made sense of the attacks by describing them as one more instance in a long chain of British aggressions. The publication listed forty-one separate examples of British violations against French property and persons between 18 June 1940 and the Torch operations.67 Pétain’s official response (written 65 66

67

Eisenhower to Combined Chiefs of Staff, 14 November 1942, FO 371/32138, TNA. ‘Communiqué du Gouvernement Français’, 8 November 1942, 9GMII/273, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (henceforth MAE). ‘Un appel du gouvernement à la discipline et à l’union’, Le Temps, 9 November 1942, 1. ‘Chronique des agressions britanniques contre la France, de 1940a 1942’, 19 November 1942, 10/GMII/333, MAE.

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by Laval) to Roosevelt’s personal message was printed throughout the press. It focussed, as always, upon claiming that Frenchmen had a solemn duty to defend the empire against all attackers.68 Vichy’s rhetoric remained consistent with its earlier responses to British territorial incursions. It drew upon themes of duty and honour based upon the binding legalistic nature of the armistice and the heroic if weary figure of Pétain. Themes of obedience and honour in duty were mainstays of Vichy rhetoric. They were inspired by traditional cultures of loyalty, particularly within the armed services. And they recalled Pétain’s 1940 argument that only a metropolitan government could be considered a legitimate representative of French interests. Le Temps reported that progress was being made to end fighting in North Africa. But its headlines focused upon the valour of soldiers who were doing their duty: ‘obéissant a l’ordre du chef de l’état nos soldats et nos marins font vaillamment leur devoir’.69 This kind of rhetoric emphasised the necessity of strong leadership and the importance of trusting and following orders. Another article described the tragic nature of the invasions while justifying Pétain’s response as in keeping with the ‘obligations’ imposed upon France by the armistice. Protecting the empire was an essential part of these obligations.70 Now publishing in the midst of the Allied invasion, the local North African press urged civilians to remain calm and imparted news of negotiations for an armistice.71 Throughout the operations, L’Echo d’Alger remained sympathetic to events on the ground and supportive of the new Darlan administration. On 11 November, German troops occupied the Southern Zone of metropolitan France. On 27 November, they attempted to seize French ships at Toulon. Their plans were frustrated by Vichy forces, who scuttled the ships. From this point forward, news in metropolitan France was divided between reports of Anglo-American operations in North Africa and Pétain’s protests against German violations of the Armistice. Even at this juncture, however, Pétain’s communiqués presented German moves as strategic and defensible, rather than an incursion upon French sovereignty.72 He was still trying desperately to protect the legitimacy of the 68 69

70 71 72

‘Les Américains et les Anglais attaquent notre Afrique du Nord’, Le Temps, 9 November 1942, 1. ‘L’attaque Américaine et Anglaise contre notre Afrique du Nord: Obéissant à l’ordre du chef de l’état nos soldats et nos marins font vaillamment leur devoir’, Le Temps, 9 November 1942, 1. ‘Les heures tragiques’, Le Temps, 9 November 1942, 1. ‘Des conversations en vue de la signature d’une convention d’armistice sont en cours’, L’Echo d’Alger, 10 November 1942, 1. ‘Les troupes Allemandes traversent la zone libre pour aller occuper des positions de défense sur la côte méditerranéenne’, Le Temps, 12 November 1942, 1.

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Vichy government. The French metropolitan press was also becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. Even in the days immediately following Torch, communiqués with information from the operations were two days behind. Le Temps discontinued publication from 30 November. In Britain, initial press responses were unsurprisingly positive. They emphasised the American character of the landings. The lack of resistance from Vichy forces (at least in Algiers) was used as proof that French elements ‘had no desire to oppose the entry of American troops into this territory’.73 Home Intelligence Reports covering 4–10 November described the growing jubilation surrounding events in North Africa. Criticism on almost all matters had declined, and this period was viewed as ‘the best week of the war’. Spirits were rising ‘to fresh heights over the AngloAmerican landings in French North Africa’. Morale was at its highest level ‘since the war began’.74 The same report cited the overwhelming belief that resisting French forces should not be given leniency.75 This attitude was consistent with previous operations against Vichy French forces. Public sentiment in Britain remained highly critical of Vichy and of the French metropole more broadly. These attitudes were linked to notions of betrayal and collaboration. Following the total German occupation of France, Home Intelligence indicated little sympathy for the French plight. Four reports cited blatant mistrust or dislike of these former allies, ‘particularly amongst men who served in the last war’.76 In addition to downplaying the amount of resistance met by Anglo-American forces, the British press gave a great deal of recognition to General Giraud. He was described as ‘a gallant and skilful military leader’.77 Even though uncertainty persisted around Darlan’s whereabouts and position, the press hailed Giraud’s assumption of the ‘leadership of the French movement to prevent Axis aggression in North Africa’.78 Resistance at the Algiers harbour ended by 7 p.m. on 8 November.79 And only three days after the initial invasion, reports that Darlan had issued a ceasefire and begun negotiations were arriving at Whitehall courtesy of the SOE unit stationed at Gibraltar.80 The press initially 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80

‘Rapid U.S. Advance in North Africa’, The Times, 9 November 1942, 4.; ‘Americans Advancing Rapidly’, The Guardian, 9 November 1942, 5. Home Intelligence Weekly Report, 12 November 1942, INF 1/292, TNA. Ibid. Home Intelligence Weekly Report, 19 November 1942, INF 1/292, TNA. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Allies Speak to France’, The Times, 9 November 1942, 4. ‘U.S. Request for Passage through Tunisia’, The Guardian, 10 November 1942, 5. ‘Stop Press News: General Giraud’, The Guardian, 10 November 1942, 6. Roskill, Period of Balance, 325. ‘Torch and the S.O.E. Signals Stations at Gibraltar’, 11 November 1942, HS 7/68, TNA. Communiqué Vichy, 11 November 1942, 9GMII/273, MAE.

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remained in the dark over Darlan’s current and developing position.81 But British policy-makers were, from the beginning, uneasy about working with him. Writing to W. H. B. Mack, British Civil Liaison Office to Eisenhower, Cadogan warned that working with Darlan was dangerous. ‘If Darlan would give us [the] fleet and Tunisia, I should be very grateful – and then throw him down a deep well’.82 Aneurin Bevan, a vocal critic of the wartime Coalition government and future founder of the NHS, also warned against collaborating with Darlan. In his view, doing so risked losing ‘our good friends like de Gaulle, who was no longer an individual but a symbol’.83 Churchill allegedly shared these views. Even worse, Darlan failed to deliver on his promises.84 His 11 November message to Admiral Jean de Laborde, commander of the French fleet at Toulon, failed to convince him to join the Allies.85 On 16 November, The Times reported that Darlan had been made head of the civil government, a status that was undoubtedly ‘only temporary …’86 The Times maintained a relatively neutral stance towards Darlan’s position until mid-December, but public sentiment was uneasy from the beginning.87 Left of centre publications like The Guardian were less willing to refrain from criticism. Even so, they often shunted blame onto American policymakers writing, ‘this country has had virtually no part in the political arrangements made by Allied headquarters’.88 Washington Ambassador Lord Halifax received instructions on 13 November to make it clear to Roosevelt or Secretary of State Cordell Hull that unless Darlan was able to deliver the French Navy, his inclusion in the North African administration would be highly unpopular.89 Eden, who remained solidly against working with Darlan, gave a second statement to Halifax on 17 November, which stated, ‘We are fighting for international decency, and Darlan is the antithesis of this’.90 Under Eden, the Foreign Office continued to insist that ‘justification of such policy is almost impossible’.91 Although 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91

Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Puzzle of Darlan’s Attitude: What Is Happening at Toulon?’ The Guardian, 13 November 1942, 5. Cadogan, Diaries, 492. ‘Typescript reports to the Prime Minister’, 13 November 1942, HARV 2/1, Churchill Archive Centre (henceforth CCAC). Woodward, Foreign Policy, 212. Roskill, Period of Balance, 337. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘France under the Heel’, The Times, 16 November 1942, 4. Kersaudy, Churchill and De Gaulle, 232. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘De Gaulle and Darlan: A “Disclaimer” No Parley with Vichy Regime’, The Guardian, 17 November 1942, 5. Eden to Halifax, 13 November 1942, FO 371/32138, TNA. Woodward, Foreign Policy, 215. Eden to Halifax, 17 November 1942, FO 371/32138, TNA.

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there were military benefits to working with Darlan, his reputation as a collaborator made it less than desirable to associate him with the Allied war cause. Early recognitions of the public backlash that would greet Allied cooperation with Darlan confirmed the role that popular opinion played in the political sphere. It also showcased the strength of morally grounded wartime narratives. Public disgust over the decision to work with Darlan translated into sympathy for de Gaulle and the CNF. Press analyses conducted by the CNF’s Commissariat de Information (Information Office) revealed growing support in the British press for de Gaulle’s movement and universal disgust over the ‘disturbing’ events unfolding.92 The leading article of the press organ of the Fighting French unreservedly criticised Darlan and was reprinted by The Guardian. It drew upon familiar themes, repudiating Darlan ‘in the name of morality, of patriotism, of democracy and of just laws’.93 Home Intelligence again highlighted a growing sense of moral injustice, which focussed very specifically on Darlan’s privileged position under the arrangements made in Algiers. Darlan’s much-publicised indiscretions made him untrustworthy. One respondent asserted, ‘General Eisenhower had better not trust Darlan further than he can throw a piano’.94 Linked to this distrust was the feeling that de Gaulle was being treated unfairly. The British press praised de Gaulle’s 8 November BBC broadcast, which implored those in French North Africa to rise up and fight against their oppressors for ‘la salut de la Patrie’.95 A week later, in a meeting on 16 November, de Gaulle pleaded with Churchill to reconsider Darlan’s position. He expressed his surprise that the British would allow themselves to be led by the Americans in such an endeavour and urged Churchill to ‘take over the moral direction of this war’.96 De Gaulle’s arguments highlighted the existence of two competing motivations governing the direction of Torch. Allied leaders wanted to end fighting on the ground. To this end, they would use whatever resources were available, including the assistance of Darlan. On the other hand, decision-makers recognised that public opinion in the metropole was hostile to the idea of working with ‘collaborators’. Opinion at home also played an important role in measuring the success of the operation. De Gaulle was able to take advantage of public criticism to enhance his own and the authority of the CNF. After Torch, de Gaulle used rhetoric as a

92 93 94 95 96

Télégramme, CNF, Presse Britannique, 21 November 1942, 18GMII/135, MAE. ‘Aim to Avoid Bloodshed’, The Guardian, 18 November 1942, 5. Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 19 November 1942, INF 1/292, TNA. De Gaulle BBC, 8 November 1942, 18GMII/129, MAE. Kersaudy, Churchill and De Gaulle, 226.

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power building tool to situate his movement on the moral high ground. He stressed that should Churchill choose to publicly take steps to move away from Darlan, all of world public opinion would stand behind him.97 In the French metropole, the press continued to clarify the consequences of ‘l’agression anglo-américaine’.98 By 16 November, the French press was reporting that Darlan was contravening Pétain’s repeated orders to resist the invasion. Darlan was criticised for claiming to act in the name of the French head of state.99 Le Temps published Pétain’s 14 November message to Darlan, which ordered him to defend North Africa against ‘l’agression américaine’ and not to act against Axis forces.100 Giraud was also accused of betraying Pétain.101 This portrayal was in sharp contrast to the Algiers press, which was now writing from a pro-Allied perspective. On 17 November, L’Echo d’Alger published a large photo of Giraud under the caption, ‘Un Grand Soldat’.102 While the North African press moved towards the Allied camp, in the metropole, Pétain had just ceded his administrative powers to Laval. Under Act 12, Laval was now able to enact laws under his own signature. Meanwhile, difficult questions over the present deal with Darlan began to emerge with more insistence, particularly in British diplomatic circles. Minutes submitted by Foreign Office Official and head of the Reconstruction Department Gladwyn Jebb argued that while military expediency may lend credibility to the agreements, the moral aspect of the decision, ‘perhaps in the long run is even more important’.103 One historian has argued that the agreements with Darlan left Allied clandestine groups SOE and OSS facing a ‘moral hazard’. The agreements jeopardised their validity in the eyes of other European resistance movements.104 De Gaulle also warned Eden that the effects of the agreements had been disastrous amongst the population of the whole of metropolitan France.105 It was impossible to isolate cooperation with Darlan from the well-established and essentially moral narratives of the Allied war effort. 97 98 99 100

101 102 103 104 105

‘Procès-Verbal de l’Entretien du General de Gaulle avec le Premier Ministre’, 16 November 1942, 3AG 1/257, Archives Nationales (henceforth AN). ‘Les conséquences de l’agression Anglo-Américaine’, Le Temps, 14–15 November 1942, 1. ‘Les déclarations mensongères de l’amiral Darlan’, Le Temps, 22 November 1942, 1. ‘Un télégramme du Maréchal à l’amiral Darlan et un ordre à l’armée d’Afrique’, Le Temps, 16 November 1942, 1. ‘L’amiral Darlan a pris des initiatives contraires aux instructions du Maréchal’, Le Temps, 16 November 1942, 1. ‘La félonie du General Giraud’, Le Temps, 17 November 1942, 1. ‘Un grand soldat, le général Giraud commandant en chef les forces terrestres et aériennes de l’Afrique française’, L’Echo d’Alger, 17 November 1942, 1. Minutes, Gladwyn Jebb, 16 November 1942, FO 371/32139, TNA. Wales, ‘“Massingham” Mission’, 53. Eden to Peake, 19 November 1942, FO 371/31951, TNA.

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The Torch operations highlighted the tensions between military expediency and moral compromise. Policy-makers in Britain and the United States had to justify the decision to work with Darlan while also acknowledging that the agreements were far from ideal. At the same time, events on the ground left little room for manoeuvre both as a matter of military expediency and American preference. Churchill faced criticism over the deal, even though the local press continued to portray it as an American initiative. Writing to Roosevelt on 17 November, Churchill argued that any deal with Darlan must ‘only be a temporary expedient justifiable solely by the stress of battle’.106 Roosevelt’s response was to issue a press release essentially copying this line. He argued that working with Darlan saved time and casualties by avoiding a ‘mopping up period’.107 The Times responded favourably to Roosevelt’s statement, emphasising the agreement’s temporary and local nature and tangible military benefits. The rapid ceasefire avoided further loss of life and gave the Allies additional time to prepare for an eastward advance into Tunisia.108 However, criticism did not disappear completely. After American Undersecretary of State, Sumner Welles, delivered his own analysis of events, the British press responded by critiquing the Darlan policy and shifting blame onto the Americans. One article criticised Welles for making ‘no direct reference to the bewilderment and disappointment expressed in Fighting French and some other quarters over allied acceptance of the aid of Darlan …’109 The Guardian remained scornful of Roosevelt’s assurances that the arrangement with Darlan was temporary. Darlan was compared with nineteenth-century political opportunist Joseph Fouché: ‘Fouché never did a quicker turn’.110 The press was right to be sceptical. Darlan himself made it clear to General Clark that he interpreted Roosevelt’s use of the word ‘temporary’ as meaning ‘until the liberation of France is complete’.111 Herein lay the difficulty of attempting to placate public sentiment while simultaneously focussing on military strategy. South African Field-Marshal Jan Smuts acknowledged this problem in a letter to Churchill sent from Gibraltar on 22 November. He reported that the present military situation might 106

107 108 109 110 111

Churchill to Roosevelt, C-193, 17 November 1942, Warren F. Kimball, ed., Churchill and Roosevelt the Complete Correspondence, vol. 2, Alliance Forged (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), 7. Roosevelt to Churchill, R-214, 17 November 1942, Kimball, Alliance Forged, 8. Our Correspondent, ‘Local Status of Darlan’, The Times, 18 November 1942, 4. Our Correspondent, ‘Mr. Welles on the Final Conquest’, The Times, 19 November 1942, 3. ‘The Darlan Mystery’, The Guardian, 18 November 1942, 4. Minutes, W. Strang citing 21 November letter from Darlan to Clark, 26 November 1942, FO 371/32145, TNA.

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call for Darlan’s retention for a ‘fairly long period’ and warned that any ‘impression[s] to the contrary should not be publicly created’.112 In Churchill’s private communications with Roosevelt, he repeatedly emphasised the need to alleviate criticisms that painted Allied actions as immoral. On the Allied side, the conflict with Germany had always been described as a noble struggle against tyranny and darkness. Allowing Darlan into the Allied camp was a sharp departure from this stance and risked jeopardising Churchill’s credibility. Churchill entreated with Roosevelt, ‘A permanent arrangement with Darlan or the formation of a Darlan government in French North Africa would not be understood by the great masses of ordinary people whose simply loyalties are our strength’.113 Churchill consistently portrayed the British and Allied struggle using a straightforward framework of good versus evil. Depicting the war in this way, however, created quite complex expectations in regard to how it should be fought. These expectations were frequently expressed using language that was deeply emotive and moral. At the same time that the Darlan affair was developing, a series of related events clarified why Darlan would never be accepted as a legitimate ally. Alongside reports of Darlan’s rising star in North Africa, the British press was printing images of the commander of the British Eighth Army, General Bernard Montgomery, entertaining German General Wilhelm von Thoma. Von Thoma, who was responsible for the 1937 Guernica massacre, had been captured outside of El Alamein on 4 November. Home Intelligence Reports concluded that the British public was disgusted by what appeared to be a friendly relationship. Montgomery was treating von Thoma ‘as if he were the captain of an opposing cricket team’, rather than an enemy combatant. There was a strong sense that it was not only desirable but also right to ‘punish’ those who had broken the moral code. This idea of acceptable retribution was also evident in repeated calls for Britain to launch a series of punitive bombing raids on Italy. ‘The Italians supported Mussolini, just as the Germans supported Hitler, and the only thing to do with them is to hit them hard and tell them there is more to come’.114 Criticisms of the von Thoma affair and calls for a harsher Italian policy were consistent with previous reactions to Franco-British clashes and to the ongoing Darlan affair. They reflected a moral code that made war a deeply personal endeavour, in which punishment and retribution were expected and necessary. In 1940, the British public had celebrated the bombardments at Mers 112 113 114

Smuts to Churchill, 22 November 1942, PREM 3/442/9, TNA. Kimball, Alliance Forged, 7. Home Intelligence Weekly Report, 26 November 1942, INF 1/292, TNA.

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el-Kébir as a necessary step towards a just victory. At Dakar and in the French Levant, it had demanded that Allied forces pound Vichy troops into submission. And in 1942, it refused to accept that military expediency justified collaborating with Darlan. At the heart of these refusals were images of immorality and a deep sense of unfairness. By late November, public opinion around the Darlan affair had only hardened. Commentary by presenter Ed Murrow from London, although broadcast for American listeners, received sympathetic press coverage in British papers. Murrow reported that although the British press and radio were following government instructions to emphasise the military nature of the agreements, public opinion disparaged the move. He quoted one man as saying, ‘We shouldn’t have done it. We shouldn’t have done it not even if he brought his tupenny navy with him’.115 Murrow also characterised the agreements as ‘a matter of high principle in which we carry a great moral burden which we cannot escape’.116 Such criticisms emphasised deeply ingrained cultural ideals such as fair play. They drew on ethical standards that allowed for punishment, and causalities as long as they stayed within the perceived confines of a ‘moral’ war. De Gaulle’s popularity also continued to rise, not as a result of his military accomplishments, but because of his apparent moral credibility. On 16 November, he published a communiqué, stating that the CNF was not currently and would not in future play any part in negotiations underway.117 Churchill wrote, in his extensive review of the war years, an account that almost seemed to exonerate Darlan. He argued that the agreement concluded by Clark and Eisenhower displayed ‘a high level of courage and good sense’.118 But he also acknowledged that the decisions taken had raised many ‘issues of a moral and sentimental character’.119 Churchill was in a difficult situation throughout the operations. He was attempting to maintain good relations between the Americans, the Free French and his own constituents. Increasing pressure from both the mass media and political quarters like the Foreign Office had made it difficult to take a clear line on the nature of the agreements. The press was dominated by discussion over Darlan, which even eclipsed the publication of the Beveridge Report on 1 December.120 De Gaulle continued to profit from 115 116 117 118 119 120

Commentary by Ed Murrow from London, C.B.S. Network in English for U.S.A., 25 November 1942, FO 371/32155, TNA. Ibid. Communiqué du Comité National Français, 16 November 1942, 18GMII/129, MAE. Foreign Office to Halifax, 16 November 1942, FO 371/31951, TNA. Churchill, Hinge of Fate, 565. Ibid. Bell, ‘British Public Opinion’, 76.

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extended press criticism. He expressed pleasure at the critical and moral stance being taken by the London press in an internal communication.121 Roosevelt’s ‘temporary expedient’ announcement may have briefly alleviated press criticism. However, when events continued to evolve in favour of Darlan, particularly after the conclusion of the Clark–Darlan agreement, criticism once again dominated the British press throughout December. Roosevelt’s statement also opened a gap between British and American public opinion, with the latter more willing to acquiesce in the current state of affairs. Alongside this development, there was rising criticism from within the British Parliamentary sphere. Despite this, official British rhetoric tried to avoid taking a strong stance, perhaps because it knew any promises to unseat Darlan could not be kept. British policymakers were constrained by events on the ground and saw no alternative but to continue working with Darlan. British Parliamentary Opposition and the End of the Darlan Affair Although fighting in Algiers had been neutralised quickly, determined German resistance and the arrival of Wehrmacht reinforcements in Tunisia meant that fighting was far from over. But the Tunisian campaigns remained overshadowed by sustained press coverage and public interest in the Darlan affair through late November and into December. The British press used de Gaulle’s statements to condemn the Darlan regime as unconstitutional and his actions as treasonous. One late November publication argued that Darlan’s position as an officer made his actions even more insidious than Laval’s.122 Home Intelligence Reports summarised the general sentiment in Britain: ‘… it is doubted whether “even the expediency of military necessity” can have justified this stratagem’.123 The three most frequent reactions to the affair included increased sympathy for de Gaulle, a tendency to place responsibility on the Americans and questions about what the future held.124 Even in areas such as Portsmouth where the Gaullist movement was very unpopular, ‘the English love of fair play makes people consider they have been very shabbily treated’.125 Despite a significant amount of pressure, Churchill had so far refused to make detailed explanations in the Commons and would only do so 121 122 123 124 125

‘Communication à tout les postes, presse’, 25 November 1942, 18GMII/135, MAE. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘General Attacks Darlan: de Gaulle’s Position’, The Guardian, 26 November 1942, 6. Home Intelligence Weekly Report, 3 December 1942, INF 1/292, TNA. Ibid. Home Intelligence Weekly Report, 10 December 1942, INF 1/292, TNA.

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in a secret session on 10 December. The content of this statement was not available for public consumption. In late November, MPs tabled a motion criticising British association with Darlan as being contrary to the ideals of the war.126 Lord Vansittart also submitted a paper for debate in the House of Lords. He hoped to address fears that the installation of Darlan as High Commissioner indicated a trend towards using other ‘Quislings’ in the administration. The War Cabinet requested that Vansittart refrain from his questions, particularly in open session.127 Although Churchill later wrote that his secret session address had completely removed parliamentary opposition and had quenched ‘the hostile Press and reassured the country’, Home Intelligence Reports indicated otherwise.128 The German occupation of the Southern zone of metropolitan France made it impossible to maintain the fiction that Vichy was either sovereign or independent. Still, Vichy rhetoric continued to argue to this effect. In a radio address that was reprinted extensively in the press, Laval criticised the American policy of aggression towards the French state and insisted that an agreement with Germany was the only way to uphold peace in Europe.129 Laval attempted to absolve the German violation of the armistice and occupation of the Southern zone. He argued that Anglo-American forces were to blame because they had infringed upon French sovereignty in North Africa and threatened German security. Laval’s argument that North Africa was a natural extension of the metropole was useful in depicting the operations as an unprovoked act of war against the body of France.130 Imagery of Pétain, who remained the titular head of state after ceding leadership to Laval, was crucial in these depictions of the largely imaginary French state. In its final days, Le Temps printed and quoted from a number of telegrams that expressed loyalty to Pétain and, thus, the French nation he represented. The hero of Verdun embodied the fictional existence of the state.131 Articles such as this became a regular feature in the last days of November. References to French sovereignty as a justification and means to condemn Allied actions had, since June 1940, been crucial to Vichy’s claims to represent the legitimate French state. Following the German 126

127 128 129 130 131

‘Anti-Darlan Motion: Undermining Faith’, The Guardian, 26 November 1942, 5. ‘Admiral Darlan’s Position: MPs Press for an Early Debate’, The Guardian, 27 November 1942, 8. Conclusions of Meeting of the War Cabinet, 21 November 1942, PREM 3/442/10, TNA. Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 17 December 1942, INF 1/292, TNA. ‘La France devant l’agression Anglo-Américaine’, Le Temps, 23 November 1942, 1. Ibid. ‘Les messages de fidélité au chef de l’état’, Le Temps, 25 November 1942, 1.

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occupation, official statements and press reports attempted to maintain such arguments, but with an increasing gap between rhetoric and reality. In the days leading up to Darlan’s assassination on 24 December, it became increasingly apparent that the public response in Britain was influenced not only by a deep sense of right and wrong but also by deeper personal experiences of involvement in the conflict. These attitudes were particularly evident in the contrasting messages presented by the press in Britain and the United States. Commissariat de Information press analyses noted that although the American press described the decision to work with Darlan as only a temporary military necessity, British media sources continued to emphasise its moral and sentimental aspects.132 Although Darlan featured prominently in the American press, broadcasters largely justified the decision as a military one, ignoring political repercussions.133 An article in The Guardian pointed out that while in Britain there are ‘no defenders of the past role of the Admiral … except a few cranks and a few sophists’, there were plenty to be found in America.134 The same article criticised press censorship for suppressing the extent of Anglo-American disagreement on the matter. Additional analyses carried out by the Foreign Office confirmed that American opinion regarding Darlan had remained consistent throughout, ‘justifying the Allied policy of temporary recognition’.135 When examining British opinion, however, reports emphasised that few trusted Darlan. He was labelled a traitor. Moreover, many assumed that he would turn against the Allies again if it suited him.136 These divergent responses were also mirrored in the strength of the political reactions within Britain, most notably in the Foreign Office and Parliament. Churchill’s reluctance to debate the Darlan affair in open session meant that there was a great deal of uncertainty regarding the details of the agreement, and more importantly, its duration. We know that even in mid-November, the length of Darlan’s tenure was uncertain and was likely to be longer than the words ‘temporary expedient’ suggested. The British media, which de Gaulle believed reflected broader

132 133 134 135 136

Télégramme, CNF de Commissariat Information, Presse, 21 November 1942, 18GMII/135, MAE. American Division Ministry of Information, ‘U.S. Press Commentary on Darlan’, 17 November 1942, FO 371/32155, TNA. D. W. Brogan, ‘Anglo-American Relations: The Censorship and Darlan’, The Guardian, 4 December 1942, 4. American Division Ministry of Information, 29 November 1942, FO 371/32143, TNA. Halifax to Foreign Office, 16 November 1942, FO 371/32139, TNA. Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 17 December 1942, INF 1/292, TNA.

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public opinion, continued to demand clarification on the Darlan affair throughout December.137 Darlan’s position, and move to convene an Imperial Council, caused further scepticism within the British press. He appeared to be consolidating his political position rather than serving purely to facilitate military operations.138 Churchill’s 10 December Commons address in secret session was difficult to square with strident criticism from the Foreign Office, MOI, Parliamentary and press reports. His earlier assurances to de Gaulle that ‘you have been with us during the war’s worst moments. We shall not abandon you now that the horizon shows signs of brightening’ appeared to have been abandoned for this address.139 Churchill subtly shifted blame onto the Americans by emphasising that they were in control in North Africa, militarily and politically. He also stepped back from de Gaulle. Churchill employed the principle of droit administratif (Administrative Law), arguing that in French culture, obedience to authority was considered supreme. In this context, de Gaulle’s actions and his person were understandably distasteful to those who had remained ‘loyal’ following the collapse.140 However, he went even further. Churchill claimed that while no promises had been made to Darlan, equally, de Gaulle did not ‘have a monopoly on the future of France’.141 Churchill used the same argument that Vichy employed, namely, obedience to authority, in order to explain the current situation. Likewise, he pointed to earlier disagreements with de Gaulle in Syria in order to muddy the ethical line between him and Darlan. By pointing out that neither party had clean hands, Churchill hoped to place the Darlan affair into a broader and more complex context, in which neither leader was clearly ideal. Darlan’s assassination brought an abrupt end to speculation surrounding his tenure as High Commissioner. However, lingering public distaste for the deal illustrated the strength of opinion that it had engendered. Ideas of moral behaviour resurfaced in the public response. Home Intelligence Reports recorded general relief at the news of Darlan’s death, coupled with the surfacing of much discussion over assassination as a means to eliminate someone. ‘People “feel they ought not to approve

137 138 139 140 141

Télégramme, du Commissariat Information, Presse Britannique, 12 December 1942, 18GMII/135, MAE. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Darlan’s Move: Digging Himself in’, The Guardian, 3 December 1942, 5. Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs of Charles de Gaulle, vol. 2, Unity 1942–1944, trans. Richard Howard (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1955), 350. Churchill, Hinge of Fate, 573. Secret Session Statement on North Africa, 10 December 1942, PREM 3/442/12, TNA.

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of assassinations”, but the majority are inclined to make an exception in this case’.142 The Guardian wrote, ‘The assassination of Admiral Darlan opens a way out of one of the worst tangles of the war’.143 The British press continued to criticise American policy in France over the Darlan affair into 1943. This issue was raised in a War Cabinet distribution, which noted that these kinds of public critiques could damage AngloAmerican relations.144 The strength of opinion surrounding Darlan remained so consistent that Churchill confided to Eden that he believed the military victory itself had been ‘tarnished and tainted’.145 He went on to add, ‘There is a deep loathing in this country, particularly strong amongst the working classes, against what are thought to be intrigues with Darlan and Vichy which are held to be contrary to the broad and simple loyalties which united the masses throughout the world against the common foe’.146 Darlan’s death may have eliminated the controversy surrounding the duration of his rule. However, it did not eliminate the bitter taste of the willingness of Allied forces to work with someone who had been repeatedly discredited by past official rhetoric. That the issue resurfaced in relation to the moral conduct of the war illustrated that material victory did not give policy-makers a carte blanche. Conclusion From the moment that planning for Torch commenced in earnest, the Anglo-American JPS was trying to manage how the invasions would be viewed by individuals and governments. Planners shared the belief that Vichy forces were less likely to resist an American invasion. And they agreed that Giraud would make an ideal and uncontroversial leader in North Africa. These calculations were not entirely accurate. Nevertheless, the meticulous drafting and sequencing of press releases and communiqués demonstrated the lengths to which the Allies were willing to go in order to reassure all interested parties of their good intentions. These communications suggested that the invasions were mounted in order to forestall German occupation and begin the restoration of France to its rightful place in the civilised world. Such depictions instilled the operations with a great deal of early significance. Not only did American 142 143 144 145 146

Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 31 December 1942, INF 1/292, TNA. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Chance to End Muddle: Allies Must Take Firm Line Giraud’s Policy’, The Guardian, 27 December 1942, 1. Halifax to Foreign Office, ‘War Cabinet Distribution’, 1 January 1943, PREM 3/442/14, TNA. Churchill to Eden, 2 January 1943, PREM 3/442/14, TNA. Ibid.

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press releases deliberately represent the operations as satisfying Soviet demands for a second front, but they also attempted to establish the invasions as the major turning point in the war. This sense of certainty was planted well before victory in North Africa and, more specifically, in Tunisia, was assured. Although early responses to the operations were understandably enthusiastic on the Allied side (an enthusiasm at least partly attributable to the disappointments of the previous months and years), the deals concluded with Admiral Darlan led to mounting criticism in metropolitan France and Britain. The American public reacted more favourably, an indulgence also reflected in the greater willingness amongst American media sources to consider arguments of military expediency. This perhaps illustrated the vastly different wartime experiences of the two allied partners rather than any deeper cleavage over a compromise deal with the Algiers authorities. Darlan’s actions were considered morally repugnant and were typecast as the epitome of treason on the British and Free French sides. But the American press and public had little personal experience upon which to base such harsh judgements. Striving to balance the requirements of the Grand Alliance with the sterner views of domestic critics, the Churchill government chose to keep its rhetoric low key. This was in marked contrast to the voluble condemnation of the Darlan deal in the numerous Gaullist publications that emanated from Carlton Gardens in the wake of Torch. This silence, in response to both press and parliamentary criticism, illustrated the difficulty of the situation. Churchill’s Ministers and senior officials were limited in what they could say by the overarching requirements of the Anglo-American relationship. The reality of events on the ground, including the expectation that Darlan would retain nominal power, meant that after Roosevelt’s 17 November press release, few other arguments could be advanced to exculpate British choices. That Churchill opted not to expand on the event in a Commons debate in an open session pointed to his acknowledgement of the strength of public opposition to the arrangements made with Darlan. It also reflected his hopes that time would dampen such criticisms. Vichy also drew on well-worn ideas of violated honour in order to criticise aggression against its sovereign imperial territory. This moral outrage did not last. The German occupation of the Southern Zone in late November 1942 placed both Pétain and Laval in an increasingly invidious position. Still, they attempted to justify even this move as only natural and indeed a defensive response to Allied ‘aggression’. The farcical nature of French sovereignty was increasingly projected onto the figure and image of Pétain, with the publication of fealty to what he

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represented as the patrie (fatherland). The coming years would see the further disintegration of any meaningful Vichy sovereignty. Emphasis would shift towards the damage done by a treacherous Anglo-Gaullist alliance, which, it was claimed, had helped bring France to its knees. The moral tone that underpinned criticisms surrounding Torch was evident in the language that policy-makers were using behind closed doors to warn of the dangers of collaborating with Darlan. It also saturated the press and public responses across much of Britain. De Gaulle capitalised on the ethical qualms expressed about the Darlan deal. His office profited from the publication of strong statements that condemned Darlan without reserve, something that no Ministry in the British government was able to do. That de Gaulle was largely powerless in this situation made his rhetoric credible, not only as a promise of action but also as a moral absolute. De Gaulle took an ethical stance that chimed with public sentiment in Britain more broadly. The sympathies of the British public, as the Foreign Office, MOI and Commissariat de Information tracked them, were moulded by the belief that de Gaulle had been treated unfairly. His loyalty had been trampled on in favour of an inglorious, if expedient, marriage of convenience with Darlan’s followers in Algiers and Rabat. What was notable about the criticisms surrounding Darlan, whether they were propagated by the press or voiced by figures such as Eden, Cadogan or Vansittart, was that they all argued that a moral compromise of this calibre risked jeopardising – and indeed overriding – the material gains of a military victory. From June 1940, British rhetoric spanning official statements, Churchillian speeches and press interpretations had described the ‘men of Vichy’ as venal defeatists: the antithesis of the war effort. Rehabilitating a member of this group into the Allied camp was virtually impossible from a moral point of view. The operation itself could easily be described as a military victory. The fact that its success was undermined by the Darlan agreements showed that victories were not judged solely on the basis of material outcomes. Military operations were still judged and discussed on an ethical platform as much as a military one.

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7

Independence on French Terms The 1943 Lebanese Parliamentary Crisis

A pair of articles published in 2007 and 2010, respectively, argued that Free French leader Charles de Gaulle precipitated crises in the Levant as a means to demonstrate his own importance and signal disagreement over broader Allied war strategy.1 It is a mistake to minimise the wider significance of events in this region and the Middle East as a whole. Doing so obscures the strategic and symbolic importance of The Mediterranean and Middle East in French and British foreign policy. This area provided vital communication and shipping links as well as crucial reserves of oil. By 1940, the bifurcated pipeline that terminated in Haifa and Tripoli supplied enough oil to keep Britain’s entire Mediterranean fleet in service.2 Egypt and the Suez Canal base zone were at the centre of Britain’s Middle Eastern war effort, containing the largest concentration of military resources, administrative support and security staff outside the British Isles.3 However, the strategic value of this region is only half of the story. The ties that linked France to the Levant were long-standing, complex, multi-dimensional, and deeply rooted in the language of historic rights and cultural connections. French links with Christian minorities had existed throughout the region since the first crusades between 1096 and 1099.4 French interests in the Eastern Mediterranean were gradually enshrined in cultural institutions such as mission schools, ostensible claims to protect the Christian minorities and trade links. By the 1

2 3

4

Meir Zamir, ‘De Gaulle and the Question of Syria and Lebanon during the Second World War: Part I’, Middle Eastern Studies 43, no. 5 (2007): 675–708. Meir Zamir, ‘The “Missing Dimension”: Britain’s Secret War Against France in Syria and Lebanon, 1942–1945: Part II’, Middle Eastern Studies 46, no. 6 (2010): 791–900. James Barr, A Line in the Sand: Britain, France and the Struggle that Shaped the Middle East (London: Simon and Schuster, 2011), 163. For a comprehensive list of Middle East operative bases and missions, see Ashley Jackson, The British Empire and the Second World War (London: Hambledon Continuum, 2006), Chapter 7, esp. 109–116. Bruce D. Marshall, The French Colonial Myth and Constitution-Making in the Fourth Republic (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1973), 128.

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mid-twentieth century, France’s refusal to relinquish control or influence over the Levant was well established. Specialised interest groups, including silk firms in Lyon, traders in Marseille and shareholders in French infrastructure projects viewed the Levant primarily as a monetary asset. The French armed forces represented another important vested interest that saw access to Lebanese ports as vital to the preservation of France’s Mediterranean power.5 As D. K. Fieldhouse, Aviel Roshwald, C. M. Andrew and A. S. Kanya-Forstner have pointed out, Syria and Lebanon’s importance to France was entangled with ideas of national prestige, power and the French civilising mission.6 When war broke out in 1939, France’s historic role in the Levant was already highly rigid. Modifying the relationship would be extremely difficult. ‘With the lines of rivalry and policy so long established, there was a sort of fatalism surrounding both de Gaulle’s policies and their ultimate failure’.7 This chapter returns to the Levant two years after the 1941 Anglo-Free French Exporter operations to examine the November 1943 parliamentary crisis in French mandated Lebanon. American entry into the war in late 1941, Soviet victories at Stalingrad and the Torch operations in 1942 had made Allied victory increasingly likely. However, the path to 1945 introduced new uncertainties over the future of empire, and particularly, the future of Anglo-French power in the Middle East. We know that de Gaulle had promised independence to Syria and Lebanon in July 1941 and that proclamations to this effect were issued in September and November of the same year. In practice, these pledges remained unfulfilled. The Free French would not agree to grant Syrian and Lebanese independence until they had concluded a treaty that would preserve France’s historic interests in the two states. This treaty would grant France enduring economic, strategic and cultural rights over its former mandates. The 1943 crisis was a product of anti-colonial nationalist resistance to Free French demands. It was precipitated by Jean Helleu, Georges Catroux’s replacement as Delegate General to the Levant. Helleu’s decision, that November, to arrest the newly elected Lebanese Prime Minister, the President and several members of the Beirut Cabinet threw Anglo-Free French relations and the broader Arab world into turmoil. Anglo-Gaullist 5 6

7

D. K. Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism in the Middle East: 1914–1958 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 239. Ibid., 252. Aviel Roshwald, Estranged Bedfellows: Britain and France in the Middle East during the Second World War (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 222. C. M. Andrew and A. S. Kanya-Forstner, France Overseas: The Great War and the Climax of French Imperial Expansion (London: Thames and Hudson Ltd., 1981), 302. Bruce D. Marshall, The French Colonial Myth and Constitution-Making in the Fourth Republic (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1973),128.

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clashes in the Levant in 1943 showcased the complexity of the relationships that European powers held with the Levant states and the wider Arab world. The latter was the centre of a vibrant, multifaceted public sphere. Here, British and French actions were the subject of constant, and often hostile scrutiny, whether in the press and other print media, in national parliaments, or in the politics of the Arab street. In 1943, the issue at stake was independence: what did it mean and when would it be granted? How would the process of independence negotiations affect the prestige and influence of Britain and France, in the Levant and throughout the Arab world? Moreover, how could these European nations frame their policies in a way that would make their continued influence in the Middle East acceptable and even desirable? Imperial conflict in the Levant was shaped by the question of independence. The rhetoric around independence revealed contrasting British, Free French and nationalist expectations concerning the role that empire would play in the post-war world. Susan Pedersen’s distinction between political and economic sovereignty is a useful framework through which to understand what independence meant to different actors during the period in question. She points to the emergence of a ‘new definition of “independence”’ in the late 1920s. The great powers relinquished claims of legal sovereignty but moved instead towards a form of economic sovereignty.8 The precedent set in the Middle East by the AngloIraqi treaties of 1922 and 1930 and the Anglo-Egyptian treaties of 1922 and 1936 entrenched the assumption that nominal independence need not preclude the mandate holder from retaining strategic and economic rights. This approach combined the cession of sovereign rights with the preservation of reserved rights for the mandate holder. It sought to pacify nationalist demands while allowing the guiding state to continue to enjoy an array of benefits, including military bases and access to oil resources. From the French perspective, managing the transition from formal to informal influence was vital for two reasons. First, the combination of British military and fiscal superiority, French wartime failures and American anti-imperial rhetoric made the Free French intensely suspicious of Anglo-Saxon intentions and local nationalist unrest. When it came to military strength, de Gaulle did not have the resources to maintain unilateral control in the Levant. Second, the Levant, and particularly the Maronite Christian community, held a great deal of intangible, cultural value. It was equally esteemed by competing Gaullists and Giraudists in the Comité Français de Libération Nationale (French Committee of 8

Susan Pedersen, The Guardians: The League of Nations and the Crisis of Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 260.

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National Liberation [CFLN]), the proto-government that was officially formed in June 1943 and headquartered in Algiers.9 In practice, however, the mobilisation of culture as a political tool only weakened French influence further. Between 1941 and 1945, de Gaulle’s policies combined insecurity over France’s political position in its mandates with an unbending belief in French cultural superiority.10 Compromise on this basis became impossible. Maintaining an empire, or in this case, supervising its demise, was made all the more complicated because this web of strategic and cultural factors was closely linked to national prestige at home and abroad. Understanding why and how Anglo-Free French arguments over empire developed in the way that they did means looking beyond military manoeuvres. No matter how callous and underhanded British policies may have been, they were still formulated with an eye towards maintaining local support and prestige, in the Levant and the Middle East. Adverse local reactions substantially limited Britain’s practical options. And at the same time as managing crises in the French Levant, British policy-makers faced growing unrest in its Palestinian mandate through 1943–1944. In an attempt to stave off the question of independence in its own mandates, Britain sought to fashion itself as an impartial and inherently benign arbiter. This supposedly neutral position was a result of British policies to protect the Middle East from Axis invasion without alienating public, and overwhelmingly nationalist, opinion in the Arab world.11 The following two chapters will examine how rhetoric, or a lack of it, was essential to this strategy. Competing definitions of independence created a rhetorical minefield in which Britain and the Free French were forced to legitimise their respective policies against the backdrop of strengthening nationalist demands. The History of Levantine Nationalism and Franco-British Regional Rivalries The longer history of Arab nationalism and Franco-British relations in the Middle East impacted how French and British decision-makers thought about their policy choices in 1943 and later, at the close of the mandate period in 1945. The question of independence for modern day Syria and Lebanon arose after the fall of the Ottoman Empire and before

9 10 11

The CFLN was formed when the CNF merged with Giraud’s Commandement en Chef Français Civil et Militaire. Jennifer M. Dueck, The Claims of Culture at Empire’s End: Syria and Lebanon under French Rule (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 3. Jackson, British Empire, 100.

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the formalisation of the French mandate in the 1923 Treaty of Lausanne. Then, too, the French administration rapidly resorted to violence in response to populist nationalism. But the idea of a historically coherent and united nationalist movement against the French mandate should not be overstated. Nationalism was itself a relatively new phenomenon in the Arab world. It had gained popularity in the late nineteenth century in response to European imperialism and the attendant emergence of secular republicanism in late Ottoman Turkey.12 Even then, Arab nationalist movements were not as firmly secular as those of ‘modern’ European nationalism and the potential boundaries of what could or would constitute a particular nation state were as yet unclear. Lebanese nationalism between 1900 and 1940 developed around a particular geographic area. At the same time, another, broader form of Arab nationalism coalesced around cultural and ethnic values.13 To complicate matters, the Arab world was itself a heterogeneous mix of religious and tribal identities.14 Within this cacophony of voices, one of the fundamental points of disagreement between Muslim and Christian notables in Lebanon was their respective attitudes towards France.15 Geographically, Lebanon was also comprised largely of intensely competitive tribal societies, a fact that hardly engendered a common sense of nationhood.16 Lebanon’s administrative structure was a product of this complicated society and its longer history of often-violent ethnic/cultural rivalries. Following the Druze massacres of over 10,000 members of the Christian population in 1860, western pressure forced the Ottomans to create the autonomous province, or sanjaq, of Mount Lebanon. However, the roughly 2,600 mi2 of territory had neither port access nor arable land. This made it reliant upon imported wheat and other food products.17 The extensive powers of the elected twelve-member Administrative Council of Mount Lebanon and its membership divisions or system of concessions between Maronite, Druze, Greek Orthodox, Greek Catholic, Shia and Sunni religious populations had a lasting impact on political thought and structures in Lebanon. 12 13 14

15

16 17

Rogan, The Arabs, 173. Albert Hourani, The Emergence of the Modern Middle East (London: The Macmillan Press, Ltd., 1981), 186. Albert Hourani gives estimates of the different religious and ethnic populations residing in Syria and Lebanon based on census records from 1932 to 1943 in Albert Hourani, Syria and Lebanon: A Political Essay (London: Oxford University Press, 1946), 121. Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 309. See also Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 311, for a more in-depth categorisation of the political divisions between the inhabitants of Lebanon. Ibid., 304. Ibid., 305.

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Working from this context, Eugene Rogan has identified three competing trends in interwar Lebanese politics, which are useful for understanding the environment that had developed by 1943.18 First, by the close of the First World War, the Administrative Council, and specifically the Maronites and Greek Catholics, agreed that their present territory should be expanded and then granted independence under French guidance. The Administrative Council knew that France had traditionally looked favourably upon the idea of a ‘Greater Lebanon’, which would encompass the seaport cities of Tripoli, Beirut, Sidon and Tyre and extend to the fertile Bekaa Valley in the East and the AntiLebanon Mountains in the west. It sought to use the mandate as a way to satisfy its own territorial ambitions and move towards eventual complete independence. Second, many of the over 100,000 strong individuals making up the Lebanese émigré community also argued strongly for independence under French tutelage. But they called for independence within the geographical confines of an independent Syria. The third strand included Sunni Muslims and Greek Orthodox Christians in the province of Beirut, who wanted to avoid becoming minorities in an expanded Lebanese, Christian dominated state. This group opted to support Amir Faysal’s Damascus-based government in the hopes of becoming part of a larger, Arab kingdom. There were also deep divisions within the Council itself. The Druze remained strongly opposed to a continued role for France in Lebanon, while the Shii Mutawallis, who inhabited the southern region of Jabal Amil, favoured a loose affiliation with Syria. These differences of opinion illustrated the complex nature of the nationalist movements that continued to develop in Lebanon and Syria over the next twenty-five years. After the First World War, initial Lebanese and Syrian attempts to negotiate independence failed. In July 1920, seven members of the Administrative Council became concerned over the increasingly heavyhanded French politics of mandate rule. In a last-ditch attempt to avoid French occupation, they sought an agreement with Faysal to achieve immediate and complete independence. French High Commissioner General Henri Gouraud responded by arresting these alleged traitors to the French cause.19 In the weeks that followed, French troops delivered a series of crushing blows to Faysal’s aspirations of statehood. The attacks culminated in the French siege of Damascus on 24 July, in which an estimated five thousand Arabs were killed.20 This historical 18 19 20

Rogan, The Arabs, 266–268. Ibid., 269–270. Marshall, French Colonial Myth, 129.

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background makes plain the depth of French ambition in the Levant and the extent to which local political movements were highly fragmented. The willingness of two of the three strands of Lebanese political opinion to acquiesce to some kind of continued French presence in the region further illustrates how early nationalist movements were thinking about and formulating their policies.21 The First World War also influenced considerably the evolution of Middle East politics. The betrayals carried out by liberal European powers engendered a culture of suspicion, a rejection of elitist liberalism and an era of political violence.22 These experiences would inform nationalist demands and expectations during the Second World War. Franco-British political manoeuvring within the Middle East also has a long history. This is important because shared imperial experiences in this region shaped and limited French and British policy ambitions.23 Individual mandates did not exist in isolation from each other. They were tied together by a complex network of sociocultural links. This meant that French and British imperial policy was closely connected, even interdependent. Greater Syria, encompassing modern-day Syria, Lebanon, Palestine and Jordan, had been a recurrent source of FrancoBritish rivalry since the early nineteenth century. In 1841, communal fighting amongst the Muslim Druze and Christian Maronites, the two dominant groups residing in the Lebanese highlands of Mount Lebanon, was exacerbated by British support for the former and French support for the latter.24 The much-vaunted 1904 Entente Cordiale may be celebrated as a mutual assistance pact. But it was rooted in imperial rivalry. The agreement resolved differences in Franco-British arguments in North Africa while fomenting others in the Middle East by facilitating European empire building in Western Asia. In addition, this understanding removed all time constraints on the British occupation of Egypt and acknowledged French ‘rights’ in Morocco. Imperial bargaining of Arab futures became the norm. The Sykes Picot agreement, concluded

21

22 23

24

This framework was not unique to the Levant. Frederick Cooper likewise examines how both French and African leadership were advocates of the post-war French federation movement as a path towards manageable regional development. Frederick Cooper, Citizenship between Empire and Nation: Remaking France and French Africa 1945–1960 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014). Elizabeth Thompson, Justice Interrupted: The Struggle for Constitutional Government in the Middle East (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013), 2, 9. James R. Fichter, ‘Britain and France, Connected Empires’, in British and French Colonialism in Africa, Asia and the Middle East, ed. James R. Fichter (Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 1, 9. Rogan, The Arabs, 115.

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in October 1916, originally gave Britain the Ottoman provinces of Baghdad and Basra, the French the Syrian coastal region and Cilicia and envisaged Palestine under international guidance.25 Despite regional agreements such as these, Franco-British relations in the Middle East were more often fraught with tension. In August 1919, the King-Crane Commission recommended the creation of a single Syrian State under a constitutional monarchy led by Amir Faysal. Ignoring its findings, Britain and France carved out the territorial boundaries that remained in place when global war broke out again twenty years later. The unrest in the Middle East that punctuated the interwar period hardened nationalist sentiment against both mandate regimes. This in turn informed a recognisable pattern of responses in British and French mandate policy. Within the Permanent Mandates Commission (PMC), Palestine/Transjordan and Syria/Lebanon were the most discussed of any of the mandates. Resolving crises in these territories took up 17.3 per cent and 14.3 per cent of the PMC’s thirty-seven sessions, respectively.26 After the June 1940 assassination of Syrian Nationalist and People’s Party leader, Dr Abd al-Rahman Shahbander, his deputy, Shukri al-Quwatli rose to power as the leader of the National Bloc, which had been formally established in 1931.27 This was the largest, most widely supported group that fought for Syrian independence during the French mandate period. Future president of Lebanon, Bishara al-Khoury, founded the mirror image, Constitutional Bloc in 1936, which likewise advocated for the dissolution of the Mandate and its replacement with a Franco-Lebanese treaty. The National Bloc, whose leadership consisted largely of wealthy urban notables, lost a great deal of credibility after it failed to conclude a binding treaty with France and prevent the cession of Syrian Alexandretta to Turkey in 1939. At the time of the Exporter invasions in June 1941, it had become opportunistically pro-Axis in the hope of securing Berlin’s backing for immediate independence.28 By 1943, it had revived itself as the Nationalist Party.29 The British decision in early 1942 to begin dealings with al-Quwatli led to the choice later that year to press for his return to Syria (following his self-imposed exile to Baghdad). This conciliatory gesture flew in the face of French wishes.30 25 26 27 28 29 30

The history of this period has been well documented and will not be discussed in significant detail here. Pedersen, The Guardians, 68. Dueck, The Claims of Culture, 17. Philip S. Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate: The Politics of Arab Nationalism 1920–1945 (London: I. B. Tauris, 1987), 587. Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 276. Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate, 597.

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When Anglo-Free French forces occupied the Levant in 1941, tensions were already developing along the predictable lines of nationalist demands for independence. However, in contrast to the interwar period, the Second World War introduced a set of political and social circumstances that would decisively influence the nature and outcome of Levantine independence demands. The Second World War disrupted French power structures and fostered and strengthened expectations for change amongst nationalist leaders and the wider indigenous population. Most significantly, Syrian and Lebanese nationalist leaders were able to exploit Franco-British rivalries to achieve their own goals before the end of the war.31 Individual leaders, such as al-Quwatli, were skilled at exploiting British promises of independence.32 By 1943, the Syrian and Lebanese prime ministers agreed that they would demand complete independence for Syria and Lebanon.33 Social circumstances also strengthened wider popular insistence for change, and eventually, independence. By the time of the invasions in 1941, both Syria and Lebanon were suffering from acute shortages of food and basic provisions. This led to a five-day strike from 7 February 1942 (backed by the National Bloc) in response to increases in bread prices from 8 to 8.5 piastres.34 By 1944, public opinion in Syria was strongly opposed to any compromise with French authorities concerning independence.35 Free French military subservience to the British in Syria and Lebanon, and the Middle East as a whole, complicated the politics of independence negotiations. The Middle East War Council, which was comprised of leading British (and, from May 1942, American) officials in the region, and chaired by Minister of State Richard Casey following his arrival in Cairo on 5 May, believed that the expulsion of the French from the Levant was desirable.36 However, there was still a high level of indecision within Whitehall and inside Churchill’s Cabinet. Churchill himself remained firmly opposed to any efforts to oust the French from the Levant in favour of British leadership. During the Second World War, British policy aimed to avoid renewed outbreaks of disorder within its Arab territories. The cost of suppressing 31

32 33 34 35 36

Zamir, ‘De Gaulle and the Question of Syria and Lebanon’, 678. Barr, A Line in the Sand, 226. Albert Hourani, A History of the Arab Peoples (London: Faber and Faber, 2005), 356. Wm Roger Louis, The British Empire in the Middle East 1945–1951: Arab Nationalism, The United States and Postwar Imperialism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984), 167. Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate, 614. Ibid., 599. Ibid., 615. ‘Resolutions of the Middle East War Council on the Political Situation the Middle East’, 17 June 1943, CAB 66/37/47, The National Archives (henceforth TNA).

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unrest would divert vital wartime resources. Wartime strategy was to ‘bolster the region’s friendly regimes’.37 This approach grew out of Britain’s own violent interwar experiences. Between 1918 and 1939, Britain had faced costly uprisings in all of its newly acquired mandates as well as its Egyptian protectorate. In 1936, Britain sent 20,000 troops to Palestine to put down a revolt that dragged on for three years. The destruction that followed saw more than 10 per cent of the male Palestinian Arab population killed, injured, exiled or interned.38 In 1941, to signal support for moderate pan-Arabist sentiment and in an effort to placate nationalism more generally, the Foreign Office announced its support for the eventual formation of an Arab League. However, as the Iraqi revolts in 1941 and growing unrest in Palestine showed, unhappiness with British interference persisted. The increasing volume of Zionist demands further destabilised Britain’s position. Since late 1942, the Jewish Agency under the leadership of David Ben-Gurion had begun spending 15 per cent of its £1 million annual budget in training the Haganah, the Jewish defence organisation.39 Revelations surrounding the extent of Nazi extermination efforts increased Jewish militancy in Palestine and heightened calls to open the borders to Jewish migrants, to the chagrin of the Arab population. An anti-British offshoot of the Haganah, which was established in the midst of the 1936–1939 Arab revolt, the Irgun Zvai Leumi had been organising attacks and sabotage operations against British targets since May 1939. Zionist terrorism represented the most violent expression of Jewish opposition to Britain’s restrictive immigration policy and its preference for the 7 July 1937 recommendations of the Peel Commission to partition Palestine.40 Although the Irgun had suspended such attacks at the outbreak of war, another Zionist militant, Abraham Stern, responded by creating the Stern Gang from a dissenting faction of the Irgun. Its fighters continued to resist British policy, eventually carrying out the assassination of British Minister of State Lord Moyne in November 1944. The Irgun, under the new leadership of Polish-born Menachem Begin, also resumed operations in December 1943, compounding the worsening instability in the region. What eventually became the public face of Britain’s Arab policy was the product of a plethora of factors. These included the gradual transition from wartime operational expediency to post-war planning. The emergence of the United States and Soviet Union as ‘the big two’ marked 37 38 39 40

Jackson, British Empire, 97. Eugene Rogan, The Arabs, A History (London: Penguin Books, 2012), 257. Barr, A Line in the Sand, 245. Jackson, British Empire, 140–141.

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a significant change in the balance of global power. Indeed, the crisis in Lebanon could hardly have happened at a worse time. It unfolded on the eve of Churchill’s meeting with Roosevelt in Cairo between 22 and 26 November 1943 and the Teheran Conference from 28 November to 1 December. American Secretary of State Cordell Hull was at the time considering publicly denouncing de Gaulle over Lebanon. Roosevelt’s prior dislike of the Free French leader was likewise strengthened. The crisis confirmed his decision that the Gaullist movement did not deserve formal Allied recognition as a legitimate French government.41 For Britain, the strength of American power was undeniable and unavoidable. Being able to consolidate regional supremacy in the Middle East after the conflict hinged upon the British ability to placate demands for reform or stave off demands to withdraw from Palestine, Egypt and Iraq. Without, at the very least, American acquiescence in these endeavours, Britain had little chance of success. With their own expectations of independence very much in mind, the governments and populations of the Arab States were also severely critical of French intransigence in Lebanon. Britain was well aware that its response to the Lebanon crisis was being closely watched throughout the region. It was this interconnectedness that made Middle Eastern politics so volatile and at the same time constrained British policy. Since the outbreak of war in 1939, British governance in Palestine was largely consistent with the pro-Arab tradition of the Foreign Office Middle East Department. The department often countermanded the residual Zionist sympathies amongst certain Colonial Office personnel. However, by 1943, there was a strong consensus amongst the Jewish community in Palestine, known as the Yishuv, that the only acceptable post-war solution was total independence, even if this meant an outright conflict with the British.42 Arab Palestinians, and indeed the broader Arab world, were resolutely opposed to the formation of a Jewish homeland in that region. At the same time, Egyptian aspirations as a regional leader could not be ignored. British foreign policy between 1943 and 1945 encouraged Egyptian leadership in the Arab world. This course of action assumed that Cairo’s continued influence would limit Palestinian weight in any regional league. Britain would thereby avoid demands for the implementation of an exclusively Arab state.43

41 42 43

Marshall, French Colonial Myth, 132. Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 186. Michael T. Thornhill, ‘Britain and the Politics of the Arab League’, in Demise of the British Empire in the Middle East: Britain’s Responses to Nationalist Movements, 1943–1955, eds. Martin Kolinsky and Michael J. Cohen (London: Frank Cass, 1998), 42.

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The undeniably crucial role that Egypt played as the lynchpin of the British war effort in the Middle East meant that it was vital to remain (as much as possible) on good terms with King Farouk’s government. British Ambassador in Cairo Miles Lampson had successfully pressured Farouk into dismissing his pro-German Prime Minister, Ali Mahir, in 1940. However, nationalist rumblings from the likes of future presidents Gamal Abdul Nasser and his fellow army officer Anwar Sadat were symptomatic of a broader desire to rid the country of its British occupiers.44 Worryingly, these sentiments were too often coupled with support for the Axis powers. In February 1942, after the resignation of Egyptian Prime Minister Husayn Sirry, Lampson demanded that Farouk appoint Wafdist leader Mustafa el-Nahhas Pasha to take his place. In a strange twist of fate, the national Wafd party was the only Egyptian political faction that was still credibly antifascist. Lampson had Farouk’s Abdin Palace surrounded with British troops and armoured vehicles. This show of imperial strength did nothing to endear the British to the Egyptian political elite in the long term. By the time of the Lebanese parliamentary crisis, British policy in the Levant had two aims. In the long term, it aimed to conserve regional influence. In the short-term, it sought to avoid jeopardising the public image of the Anglo-Gaullist partnership. This attempt to balance two fundamentally opposing viewpoints was described in the official history of British foreign policy during the Second World War. Sir Llewellyn Woodward avoided placing blame for the Lebanese debacle. Instead, he argued that the French should not have taken such ‘high-handed measures’ in November 1943 but that the Lebanese were equally rash in unilaterally revoking French privileges.45 Britain’s dual goals resulted in often-contradictory policy initiatives. Officials on the ground, such as Spears and Casey actively worked with local nationalists, advising them to refrain from violent retaliation as a way to build international sympathy for their demands. However, in London, British Foreign Office officials hoped to preserve a neutral stance. They knew that backing the French would jeopardise Anglo-Arab relations while forcing the French to back down would further undermine Anglo-Free French cooperation. The CFLN, itself increasingly recognisable as a full-fledged governmentin-waiting, was intent on consolidating French influence in the Levant. But the CFLN’s lack of resources meant that Free French administrators were compelled to rely upon vastly superior British manpower to 44 45

Jackson, British Empire, 118. Sir Llewellyn Woodward, British Foreign Policy in the Second World War (London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1962), 261.

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maintain a viable bureaucracy in Syria and Lebanon. Meanwhile, the local governments and national parliaments of both Levant states were by this time in agreement about working towards separate and complete independence. Compromise with the French was no longer on the bargaining table.46 In the case of the CFLN and later de Gaulle’s provisional government, attempts to guarantee continued French influence followed a not unexpected path. French policy in 1943 (and again in 1945) illustrated that practices of repression and colonial violence were central to French imperial power. This remained the case even as policy-makers refashioned empire in a more liberal framework. The use and justification of violence as a demonstration of French rights and power assumed that traditional responses to local revolts remained defensible. Indeed, these actions, and their justification under the guise of French cultural and political superiority bore striking similarities to the suppressions of the 1925 Druze revolts.47 In 1943, the French sought to negotiate agreements that would allow them to maintain military bases and cultural institutions rather than indefinite mandate rule. But the sentiment behind its intentions was similar. The perpetuation of a historic paternalistic attitude towards the indigenous population continued to inform French rhetoric. This time, France and Britain were not military equals, and ‘the other interested parties were far more influential’.48 Given France’s lack of military capabilities and the refusal of the American and Soviet governments to uphold French claims, as the League of Nations had done, France was crippled. For de Gaulle, restoring France as a great power demanded national unity alongside the renegotiation and strengthening of colonial ties. In 1943, however, the German defeat was still a remote prospect. And neither the CFLN nor certainly Vichy could claim uncontested control over a French nation or empire. Syria and Lebanon may not have been part of France’s formal empire, but the administrative rights bestowed on it through the mandate fostered a similar sense of ownership. Article 22 of the League of Nations Covenant charged France, an ‘advanced nation’, with the administration and development of the Levant. It provided no further details regarding how long this obligation was to continue or 46 47

48

Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate, 614. Daniel Neep, Occupying Syria under the French Mandate: Insurgency, Space and State Formation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 69. For more on the ideas and expectations underlying French Imperialism, see Martin Thomas, Bob Moore and L. J. Butler, Crises of Empire: Decolonization and Europe’s Imperial States, 1918– 1975 (London: Hodder Education, 2008), Chapter 5. Marshall, French Colonial Myth, 132.

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how the transition to independence was to be made. Whatever the final outcome, de Gaulle and the CFLN were adamant that France would negotiate the future of these states and that this future would include a place for France. After the Middle East emerged from four centuries of Ottoman rule, it found itself in the midst of European domination. As a relatively new concept, Arab Nationalism was still in its early stages when war broke out in 1939, and traditional divisions between religious and tribal communities rendered a coherent approach towards independence commensurately difficult. This recent history had an important impact on the Lebanese parliamentary crisis in November 1943. British and French efforts to uphold their influence in the Middle East were impacted by local sentiments and material capabilities. In this context, official rhetoric was guided or restrained by both traditional understandings of empire and the growing strength of nationalist demands. Rhetorical Battlegrounds and Lebanese Demands for Independence In December 1942, the French National Committee (CNF) finally agreed to hold national elections in Lebanon.49 Organised from Beirut in late August 1943, they resulted in nationalist victories, an outcome that de Gaulle blamed on British interference.50 Bishara al-Khoury, a former adviser to General Gouraud, became the new president. Sorbonne-educated Riad el-Solh was elected as prime minister. The new government abolished the French Mandate on 8 November and made Arabic the sole national language. Local French officials, under the orders of French Delegate General Helleu, responded swiftly. Early on 11 November, Helleu arrested the president, prime minister, three ministers and one deputy. They were interned in a fortress in the southern town of Rashaya. He appointed Émile Eddé, the pro-French candidate, as the provisional president. Helleu’s actions were unreservedly criticised within the British War Cabinet, not least because the members regarded Eddé as ‘a notorious drug trafficker’.51 49

50 51

On 24 September 1941, the Comité National Français replaced the Conseil de Défense de l’Empire Français. The latter was originally founded as a central organisational committee to look after territories that had rallied to de Gaulle. The CFLN was founded on 3 June 1943. It was recognised as the French provisional government in September 1944. Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs, vol. 2, Unity 1942–1944, trans. Richard Howard (London: Simon & Schuster, 1959), 524. W.M. (43) 153rd Conclusions, 12 November 1943, CAB 65/36/21, TNA.

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When Eddé dissolved the Lebanese Chamber of Deputies violence erupted in the streets of Beirut. Meanwhile, Helleu tried to contain the crisis by clamping down on the rhetoric that surrounded it. He ordered the seizure of all printing presses in the Levant as a way to suppress publication of the controversy.52 At the same time, Edward Spears, Churchill’s representative to the Free French, was quickly becoming a vocal proponent of Levantine independence. On 24 November, the Lebanese newspaper Al-Hayat published an extensive article praising Spears’ role in the movement towards independence. In the interview, Spears took a decisive stance on the side of the nationalists, an attitude that would become a source of untold frustration in London. Like Helleu, Spears also saw rhetoric as playing an important role in the crisis. He told his interviewer that the first thing he did after president Bishara al-Khoury’s son Kalil informed him of the arrests was to publicise them. He sent a messenger to Palestine to broadcast Helleu’s actions in English and Arabic. He also coordinated transport for journalists between Beirut and Cairo.53 Responses on both the French and British sides showed how important it was to control the narrative of the crisis within the immediate region. For the Free French, this would mean trying to justify Helleu’s actions and defend France’s traditional rights in the Levant. By contrast, the British, unable to take sides in the argument without jeopardising their local and regional relationships, would choose to maintain a studied neutrality. This studied silence on the matter was a strategic rhetorical choice. At the same time, the claims of local and regional actors widened the war of words. Nationalist voices forced British and Free French actors to respond to demands that would reduce their imperial claims and thus alter their visions of a post-war world in which empire played a decisive role. After Giraud resigned as co-leader of the CFLN on 8 November 1943, de Gaulle quickly consolidated his personal power as premier. He effectively became president-in-waiting of the French provisional government expected to emerge from the CFLN. While in Algiers, he remained reluctant to compromise on the political future of his movement and avoided committing to precise political plans for the post-war reconstruction of France.54 Images of national solidarity were a way to unite French interests under a broad Free French banner. They avoided 52 53 54

Spears Interview, 11 March 1948, GB165-0269, Middle East Centre Archives (henceforth MECA). Edward Spears, interview in ‘Al-Hayat’, 24 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA. Andrew Shennan, Rethinking France: Plans for Renewal, 1940–1946 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), 56.

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creating divisions between proponents and opponents of republicanism or socialism. De Gaulle had made a few early gestures towards post-war reconstruction planning late in 1941, but they remained vague and apolitical. That November, he delivered a speech at Albert Hall suggesting that Free France could have a role in France after the war. A month later he appointed four study commissions to consider post-war problems.55 In October 1942, de Gaulle created the Commission du Débarquement, a committee to supervise decisions on the administration of France during the liberation. By the time the CFLN emerged in 1943, despite potential challenges from internal resistance groups, the organisation was better placed to contribute to post-war planning. It had physical security and the organisational framework of a governmental structure. For de Gaulle and the Free French, post-war reconstruction was never a purely practical or political endeavour. Rebuilding France at the end of the war meant restoring its great power status. And doing so called for patriotism and imperial unity.56 De Gaulle made it very clear in his memoirs that it was of primary importance for France to regain its rightful place as one of the world powers. It could achieve this by leveraging its historical prestige and remaining overseas territories.57 Crucial to this restoration of French sovereignty was the ability to formulate, to implement and to legitimise policy at home and abroad. This mindset was critical in informing Free French responses during the Lebanese parliamentary crisis. In 1943, Free French justifications of the parliamentary arrests aimed to legitimise the French position in the Levant. The rhetoric that Free French officials used to consolidate international and particularly American support for France’s position in Lebanon was rooted in historic assumptions that painted the Lebanese as rash and immature. While Free French rhetoric raised the spectre of independence, it did so with the understanding that it could only be granted by French authority. The resulting official statements were rooted in a well-worn discourse of indigenous inexperience and the assumption that independence meant different things for ‘modern’ and ‘pre-modern’ states. Free French communiqués framed Helleu’s actions in a moral, humanitarian and legalistic framework. Official statements emphasised France’s right and responsibility to uphold the mandate. They were a continuation of interwar constructions that viewed colonial culture and indigenous inabilities to rule as justifications for French tutelage.58 55 56 57 58

Ibid., 56–57. Ibid., 65. Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs of Charles de Gaulle, vol. 3, Salvation, trans. Richard Howard (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1960), 873. Thomas, Crises of Empire, 127.

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From the inception of the crisis, communiqués issued by Henri Bonnet, de Gaulle’s Commissioner for Information, underscored the legal grounds of French actions and the inherent bad faith of the Lebanese government. Bishara al-Khoury, Bonnet argued, presented the French with a ‘fait accompli’. Helleu was set to begin negotiations for independence, and it was only the blind and inherently irrational nationalism of the Lebanese cabinet that led it to take by force what they were on the cusp of receiving ‘de bon gré’.59 On 16 November, de Gaulle addressed the Provisional Consultative Assembly to reiterate the appropriateness of French actions. The mandate, he stressed, was an international statute that neither the governed population nor the governing party had the authority to renounce.60 The French position as puissance mandataire (mandatory power) was obligatory, not voluntary.61 Going further, the French press in Algiers argued that the Lebanese press approved of the attitude of French authorities in seeking to preserve strong ties with the French nation.62 This was largely a result of Helleu’s 14 November statement broadcast via Radio Levant, in which he claimed to have received countless messages of thanks for the actions he had taken.63 De Gaulle invoked the French Délégation Générale as a responsible authority bound by France’s status as a mandatory power. This was an attempt to make French actions appear credible and justifiable. In this framework, France’s Levantine policies were informed by its legal obligations, not by unwarranted desires for continued influence. Helleu’s actions were ‘perfectly justifiable’ and indeed, consistent with French responsibilities.64 Catroux’s arrival in Beirut to resolve the crisis provided further opportunities for the CFLN to demonstrate good faith as a protector and guide. France would bestow on ‘cette jeune nation, en marche vers sa complète indépendance, une nouvelle marque de son affectueuse sollicitude’.65 But Free French rhetoric was under pressure both from nationalist movements and the British. Casey warned Catroux, ‘public opinion in the world and particularly in Lebanon would be unimpressed by legal niceties’. They, and the rest of the world, would only remember that France had promised independence and at the first 59 60 61 62 63 64 65

René Richard, ‘Reflets du jour – la France au Liban’, L’Echo d’Alger, 14 November 1943, 1. Charles de Gaulle, Discours et Messages Pendant la Guerre Juin 1940–Janvier 1946 (Paris: Plon, 1970), 344–347. ‘Les Événements du Liban’, L’Echo d’Alger, 13 November 1943, 1. Ibid. British Legation Beirut to Foreign Office, 15 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA. De Gaulle, Unity, 526. ‘Reflets du jour – La France au Liban’, L’Echo d’Alger, 14 November 1943, 1.

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opportunity defaulted on those promises.66 Catroux’s original plan to win France ‘moral credit’ in the eyes of the Levant through a seemingly liberal approach towards independence was beginning to falter under this sustained public pressure.67 The Lebanese parliamentary crisis showed just how fine a knife-edge British policy was balanced on in the Middle East. British responses to the arrests had to assuage nationalist demands without in the process destroying the Anglo-Free French relationship. And while policy-makers were able to control the tone of official statements, they were less able to control the recriminations emerging in the British press, which began to cause friction between the CFLN and London. They also fostered expectations from nationalist groups demanding British action. The British press had been printing prominent stories about rising tensions in Lebanon from 10 November, the day prior to the arrests.68 In the wake of the arrests, articles reported that violence, demonstrations and strikes were taking place across Lebanon to protest French actions. Bonnet angrily countered what he said were hugely exaggerated reports. He maintained that a state of calm existed throughout the region.69 Foreign Office official R. M. Makins, who was assisting Resident Minister in Algiers Harold MacMillan, reported that de Gaulle’s Commissioner for Foreign Affairs René Massigli had requested that press and wireless sources be restrained from exaggerating the level of unrest outside of Beirut.70 From the beginning, it was easy to recognise the reluctance amongst British decision-makers to take sides publicly. An official communiqué published on 13 November confirmed prior promises of independence. But it lacked any substantial commitment as to how and when this would be achieved.71 In the Commons, Undersecretary of State Richard Law described the arrests as causing ‘great public excitement’ in Lebanon and the broader Middle East. He explained that this was due to the perception that they ‘were regarded as unjustified by the circumstances’.72 66 67 68 69 70 71

72

Minister Cairo to Foreign Office, 16 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA. Ahmed M. Gomaa, The Foundation of the League of Arab States: Wartime Diplomacy and Inter-Arab Politics, 1941–1945 (London: Longman, 1977), 91. Ibid. Rédacteur diplomatique d’A.F.I., ‘Le Calme le plus absolu règne dans tout le Liban’, L’Echo d’Alger, 18 November 1943, 1. Mr Makins to Foreign Office, 13 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Britain not Consulted’, The Guardian, 13 November 1943, 5. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘British Approach to French’, The Times, 13 November 1943, 4. Hansard HC Deb vol. 393 col. 1450 (23 November 1943) http://hansard.millbanksystems.com/commons/1943/nov/23/lebanon-situation.

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Law’s statement neither passed judgement on the arrests nor portrayed Britain as being on the same side as the Lebanese nationalists. It only described the response within Lebanon. Law reaffirmed British commitments to the 1941 promises of independence and the importance of Lebanon to the ongoing war effort. But he still avoided advocating a particular course of action. Official communications throughout the crisis also remained vague. They reverted to broad promises rather than endorsing a specific strategy. BBC Europe’s broadcasting instructions stressed the need to impart the ‘moral, political and strategic’ position of Britain, an approach that depicted the British as a kind of helpful diplomatic presence in the current affair.73 Media responses, particularly within Britain, made it difficult to preserve this neutral stance. This was especially the case as news stories from the British press spread beyond British shores to nationalist audiences within Lebanon. Spears reported that the opinions in these articles were considered to be equivalent to British policy. The article that precipitated Spears’s note was published on 15 November in The Times. It suggested that the Lebanese government had ‘acted with misplaced haste’. The French cited it to justify the arrests. More importantly, many Lebanese, who believed The Times to be the ‘mouthpiece’ of the British government, concluded that Britain was on the side of the French.74 A few days later, the Foreign Office issued a political directive to officials in Beirut. It referenced another, much more blatantly pro-Lebanese article from The Times calling for the immediate release and reinstatement of the arrested officials. The directive acknowledged that it was now largely impossible to avoid looming questions about independence.75 A memo from Spears analysing the Lebanese election crisis concluded, ‘What can only be described as the flowering of national consciousness in the Lebanon has proved to be much stronger than religious fanaticism or sectarian fears’.76 And the vast majority of British press publications were uncompromisingly pro Lebanese. The strength of the British media response also highlighted the disparity between official and popular sentiment (to the extent that it was reflected in the press). It illustrated how, much like criticisms over the 73 74 75 76

Telegram 1280–1282, Vienot à Diplofrance, 18 November 1943, 3AG 1/137, Archives Nationales (henceforth AN). H.M. Minister Beirut to Foreign Office, 16 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA. ‘Lebanese crisis. Daily directive number seven’, 18 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA. ‘Memo on the recent elections in Lebanon’, 25 October 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA.

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Darlan deal, within Britain the conflict was interpreted according to a strict moral and ethical code. Official analyses of the crisis noted the discrepancy between official rhetoric and the press response: ‘As if at a single command, the entire British press has launched a large-scale campaign against the Committee of National Liberation’.77 The British press drew on themes of fair play and credibility when it criticised Gaullist policy and demanded that Britain intervene in order to uphold its own honour. One article summarised the crisis by describing French actions as contrary to the rights of a self-governing and sovereign state: ‘… few people imagined that the local French authorities would go to the length of suppressing the National Parliament freely elected … in accordance with the promises of independence …’.78 Press reports originally published in the Middle East also influenced the tone adopted by the British press, just as The Times had affected sentiment within Lebanon. The Times pointed to the homogeneity of local opinion in the Middle East, writing that Egyptian and Muslim objections were united in condemning the harshness of the French reaction.79 The CFLN was portrayed as clinging to the ‘almost non-existent’ juridical foundations of the mandate.80 The British press did not stop at criticising the Free French policy. It launched direct calls for British action, a response that made Whitehall anxious. Although The Times took a slightly more reserved stance than more left-leaning publications, there were wide calls for Britain to involve itself in order to avoid ‘grave embarrassments’ and to protect its honour.81 At the centre of the issue, once again, were honour and prestige. Britain must act to uphold its own honour, even though this would likely have negative repercussions for the French position in the Levant. The British press was dominated by the crisis, and it was not uncommon to find forecasts predicting both a decline in French prestige and a rise in tensions between Britain and France. The extent of criticism against the CFLN was so pronounced that the Foreign Office expressed concern that Franco-British relations could be irrevocably damaged. An article in The Observer calling for Churchill to ‘publicly pillory de Gaullism’ was cited as a particularly concerning example.82 In the Commons, MP for

77 78 79 80 81 82

‘Lebanese Crisis’, 15 November 1943, FO 898/197, TNA. My italics. Special Correspondent, ‘The Danger in the Levant, Background of the French-Lebanese Breach’, The Guardian, 15 November 1943, 4. Our Own Correspondent, ‘French Attitude on the Mandate’, The Times, 13 November 1943, 4. ‘Mr. Casey in Beirut: Consultation with British Envoy on the Lebanese Crisis’, The Guardian, 15 November 1943, 5. Leaders, ‘Trouble in the Lebanon’, The Times, 12 November 1943, 5. ‘Lebanese Crisis’, 15 November 1943, FO 898/197, TNA.

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East Fulham Mr William Astor made it clear that he believed that Britain had to take action to guarantee Lebanese independence in order to maintain British honour.83 MP for Oxford Quintin Hogg argued that the Lebanese, as ‘among the most gifted of the Arabs’, should not be pressured into a treaty they did not wish to make.84 The problem that British policy-makers faced was that there was no good side to take in the conflict. Adding to the pressure of its home press, local and regional nationalist groups were wielding the Allies’ own wartime narrative to make the case against imperial domination. Writing from Cairo, British diplomat Terence Shone expressed his concern over Egyptian reactions. The Egyptian press, he argued, was unabashedly on the side of the Lebanese. Egyptian publications were mobilising the democratic principles expressed in the Atlantic Charter as proof that French actions were indefensible.85 The daily Wafdist newspaper Al Misri followed the 8 November pronouncements closely. It called on the CFLN to recognise the death of imperial regimes and the incompatibility of Allied principles with the domination of a large nation over a small one.86 If Britain chose to step in on the side of the French, this ‘would be extremely awkward’, Shone continued.87 Saudi monarch Ibn Saud also cited the democratic themes of the Charter in his telegram to Churchill. He invoked a highly cultural image of the British, which drew on ideas of fair play and its historic commitment to champion the cause of the underdog.88 The Iraqi response was no less scathing. On 13 November, the Chamber argued that continued British support for and backing of the CFLN was allowing French officials to maintain control over the Levant. A few members even called French troops ‘British mercenaries’.89 The following day, British ambassador in Baghdad Sir Kinahan Cornwallis reported that the Iraqi press was united in condemning French actions in Lebanon. Cornwallis stressed that the mass media was inciting Arab nationalist militancy.90 83

84 85

86 87 88 89 90

Hansard HC Deb vol. 393 col. 1405 (11 November 1943) http://hansard.millbanksystems.com/commons/1943/nov/11/lebanon-french-authorities-action. ‘Criticism in the House of Commons’, The Guardian, 12 November 1943, 8. Hansard HC Deb vol. 393 col. 1451 (23 November 1943) http://hansard.millbanksystems.com/commons/1943/nov/23/lebanon-situation. The Atlantic Charter was a joint statement made by Churchill and Roosevelt on 14 August 1941. Amongst other things, it promised ‘the right of all peoples to choose the form of government under which they will live’. Al Misri, 8 November 1943, 4GMII/29, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (henceforth MAE). Shone to Foreign Office, 10 November 1943, GB165-0269, MECA. H.M. Minister, Jedda to H.M. Minister, Beirut, 13 November 1943, MECA. H.M. Ambassador, Baghdad to H.M. Minister Beirut, 13 November 1943, MECA. H.M. Ambassador, Baghdad to Foreign Office, 14 November 1943, MECA.

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British Foreign Office documents have demonstrated that Arab attitudes, not just in the Levant, but throughout the Middle East, were of primary importance. However, this agreement did not eliminate differences of opinion over how to achieve Arab support and at what cost. Spears and Casey prioritised finding a solution that would bolster Arab opinion towards Britain even at the expense of de Gaulle. In Algiers, Macmillan was reluctant to move beyond threats and publicly compromise Franco-British relations.91 There were pitfalls on both sides. Intervening too strongly on the side of the nationalists could have serious consequences for Britain’s relationship with de Gaulle. It could also jeopardise British standing in the Middle East. A Foreign Office directive noted that British intervention and the blatant championing of the nationalist cause could provide an opportunity to question ‘British hypocrisy in posing as the champion of oppressed native populations in view of India, Palestine, etc.’.92 The result was that British policy-makers found themselves trying to appear outwardly supportive of growing pan-Arabism (even if interstate rivalries lingered) while simultaneously avoiding treading on French sensibilities.93 Faced with the contradictions inherent in such a policy, the Foreign Office chose instead to cast Britain as a disinterested but helpful negotiator, in the Lebanese crisis and in wider regional matters. At the same time, the seriousness of the situation left the Foreign Office in no doubt that the French must be quietly forced to comply with British demands. Not able to take a strong stance publicly, British officials chose instead to place pressure on the French privately, in the hopes that they could retain their neutral position. Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden’s initial telegram to Macmillan on 12 November instructed him to make it clear to the French that their actions were ‘wholly indefensible’. The note warned that if British demands for the recall of Helleu and the release of the ministers were not met, ‘we should be compelled to take a line which would certainly imply dissociating ourselves completely from the French, and might entail consequences which would be most unpleasing to them’.94 Eden was instructing Macmillan to threaten to publicly disavow French actions in the Levant and forcibly reverse them. But these threats were delivered out of sight of the public eye. 91 92 93 94

‘Directive on the Statement by the British Government on the Declaration of Martial Law in the Lebanon’, 20 November 1943, FO 898/197, TNA. ‘Directive on the Statement by the British Government’, 20 November 1943, FO 898/197, TNA. Broader Arab apprehensions of Hashemite ambitions had led to Syria siding with Egypt and Saudi Arabia against Transjordan and Iraq. W.M. (43) 153rd Conclusions, 12 November 1943, CAB 65/36/21, TNA.

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From a material perspective, Britain, and more specifically the Middle East Command (MEC), could have easily supplanted French forces in the Levant. De Gaulle routinely complained that while Britain had hundreds of thousands of troops in the Middle East, French forces amounted to only three Senegalese battalions and the 18,000 local volunteers who made up the Troupes Spéciales.95 The 70,000 strong Armée du Levant, traditionally made up of a majority of Senegalese, Madagascan and North African regular troops, had been disbanded after the Exporter operations.96 But even the War Cabinet took an early stand against the use of armed intervention except as a last resort. It preferred the threat of revoking Britain’s de jure recognition of the CFLN. Threatening to withdraw recognition from de Gaulle’s Algiers institution was an example of rhetorical pressure serving as a legitimate means of intervention and a diplomatic means to resolve the crisis. On the other hand, the Foreign Office favoured the threat of martial law combined with a subtle distancing from French actions. This view became the foundation for a British ultimatum.97 The ultimatum would be given to Catroux, with the goal of forcing him to release the internees. There was a strong possibility that the ultimatum would become public if Catroux refused to comply. The process of drafting the ultimatum thus also had to consider how to protect British prestige against criticism from nationalist quarters in the Middle East and metropolitan France. On 19 November, Casey delivered what he subtly called an ‘aide-mémoire’ to Catroux. It demanded that the internees be released by 10.00 a.m. on 22 November or Britain would declare martial law and free the arrested officials.98 De Gaulle later argued that Catroux had already taken steps to liberate the ministers on his own. And the British did not in fact intervene militarily. But the debates that surrounded the ultimatum remain instructive.99 British Foreign Office reports stressed the need to prepare appropriate responses justifying British actions, should intervention become necessary. Decision-makers in this office and the War Cabinet feared that too strong a British response would reflect badly upon a French audience. Moreover, it would provide an opportunity to showcase Allied disunity by arguing that the British were exploiting the French. Even in the midst 95 96 97 98

99

De Gaulle, Unity, 525. Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 275. W.M. (43) 154th Conclusions, 15 November 1943, CAB 65/36/22, TNA. Eden subsequently extended the time limit by 48 hours, making the new deadline 10 a.m. of 24 November. W.M. (43) 159th Conclusions, 21 November 1943, CAB 65/36/27, TNA. De Gaulle, Unity, 527.

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of the crisis, policy-makers remained committed to preserving the notion of Franco-British cooperation despite underlying policy conflicts. On 19 November, the Foreign Office, after consultation with Minister of Information Brendan Bracken, wrote to Casey explaining how to ‘prepare public opinion’ in the event that Britain declared martial law. Press correspondents ‘should emphasise [the] gravity of [the] local situation, the rising anxiety in neighbouring countries and danger of letting the situation remain as it is …’.100 Further directives stipulating how the crisis should be discussed publicly emphasised the legitimacy of British actions by connecting them to American and Soviet policies. In the case that the French refused the ultimatum and Britain declared martial law, one document stated that it should be made clear that British action was only taken after consolation with the United States and the Soviet Union when attempts to compromise had failed.101 The Free French also attempted to use Soviet imagery to suggest that its right to conclude strategic treaties with its mandate territories was internationally recognised. Spears reported that a poster depicting de Gaulle and Stalin side by side had been posted all over Beirut on 10 November. This was a consistent part of French propaganda, Spears argued, which implied Soviet backing for French actions in the Levant.102 Although the Soviets did not issue a single statement during the Lebanon crisis, they and the United States became increasingly involved in the Levant in the following years.103 More importantly, communication directives illustrated how the British response was constrained by its desire not to compromise either the Franco-British relationship or its standing amongst Middle East nationalist groups. Making it look like the CFLN continued to control the issue allowed Britain to communicate its policy through rhetoric rather than overt military action. However, it also fostered the French belief that an agreement with the Levant states was still possible. During the Lebanese parliamentary crisis, pressure from a range of sources impacted British foreign policy. The British mass media, Lebanese nationalist groups and British mandate territories in the Middle East called on Britain to have the internees released and reinstated. However, doing so would severely compromise Britain’s relationship with de Gaulle and the CFLN. By intervening, Britain could open the 100 101 102 103

Foreign Office to British Legation Beirut, 19 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA. Ibid. Spears to Foreign Office, 11 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA. G. E. Maguire, Anglo-American Policy Towards the Free French (Basingstoke: MacMillan Press Ltd., 1995), 50.

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door to criticism over its own imperial policy. Counter-intuitive as it may seem, British intervention, using an ultimatum, represented a compromise that allowed Churchill’s government to resolve the crisis without adopting too vigorous a stance. French acquiescence in releasing the internees enabled Britain to maintain its position of relative neutrality while still conceding to France the ever-decreasing possibility of concluding a favourable treaty with its mandate governments. This British reluctance to be tied to too rigid a policy, whether on the side of the nationalists or in favour of continued French influence, was signalled through the absence of official rhetoric advocating one alternative or the other. Despite pressure from MPs and the mass media to intervene publicly on the side of the nationalists, intervention was inconsistent with the long-term British interests in the region as a whole. This crisis was just the beginning of France’s descent towards imperial violence in the early post-war period. The following chapter will examine how de Gaulle’s tenure as provisional leader of a liberated French state was, much like Vichy, primarily concerned with the rehabilitation or renegotiation of the empire and the wider French nation. Conclusion On 21 November, the CFLN announced the release of the internees and the reinstatement of President Bishara al-Khoury. However, the crisis was hardly forgotten. For nationalist groups in the Levant, it reaffirmed the unacceptability of continued French rule. For de Gaulle, it confirmed British duplicity. As the Allied victory appeared more assured, issues of post-war governance, reconstruction and, crucially, French standing in the global order became supremely important. The rhetoric of imperial reform during this period was inextricably linked to French sovereignty.104 In 1943, de Gaulle could not yet claim leadership over metropolitan France, but he was increasingly asserting power over the empire.105 His uncompromising attitude towards the Levant remained a source of concern for his British colleagues. Foreign Office directives instructed that comments on the freeing of the Lebanese officials should be minimised and refrain from emotive or highly opinionated comment.106 This stance reaffirmed the British desire to avoid choosing

104 105 106

Martin Shipway, The Road to War: France and Vietnam, 1944–1947 (New York: Berghahn Books, 2003), 25. Shennan, Rethinking France, 62. ‘Foreign Office Directions for Response on Release of President and Ministers in Lebanon’, 22 November 1943, FO 898/197, TNA.

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sides. However, nationalist movements within the Levant continued to mobilise rhetoric that confirmed their unwillingness to mitigate their demands for complete independence, even under French pressure. After the internees were released, French rhetoric, in line with underlying policy, indicated a fundamental failure to acknowledge that it had lost all credibility within the region. For de Gaulle and the CFLN, portraying the event as a French affair was a sign of both their own power and legitimacy in the Levant. This remained the case even as the Franco-British relationship was placed under increasing pressure. Bonnet’s press release argued that the decision to release the arrestees was not due to ‘outside pressure’ or ‘made in answer to anybody’.107 De Gaulle defended his policy in his memoirs, writing that not only had the decision to release the ministers been made long before the ultimatum, but the British threat was itself a ploy to ‘create the impression of a French loss of face’.108 His assertion illustrated his own concerns over the power differences in the relationship and the need to ‘set the record straight’ publicly. It was part of a continuing rhetoric that sought to guarantee a meaningful place for France in the post-war world. This crisis in 1943, and the mentalities that underlay the actions and reactions on all sides, laid the groundwork for a second series of clashes, this time in Damascus at the close of the war. It is fitting to conclude this broader discussion of war, rhetoric and empire with a crisis that saw the end of conflict in the European theatre and introduced the early stages of decolonisation.

107

108

Special Correspondent, ‘Lebanese President Reinstated’, The Times, 22 November 1943, 4. ‘Le Comité de la libération a pris des dispositions pour régler aussi rapidement et complètement que possible l’incident Libanais’, L’Echo d’Alger, 22 November 1943, 1. De Gaulle, Unity, 528.

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Conclusion

On 25 August 1944, Charles de Gaulle returned triumphantly to Paris. By 9 September, he was at the head of his newly formed French provisional government. This turn of events closed one chapter in the war of words – the battle over who and what represented the authentic French state. But rhetoric continued to play a fundamental role in the FrancoBritish relationship even after Allied victory seemed imminent. The battles over imperial prestige in the Middle East were one example. Here, rhetoric underlined long-standing Franco-British tensions. However, closer to home, both French and British policy-makers were using rhetoric in another way, to promote closer Franco-British cooperation. Late in November 1944, Minister of Foreign Affairs Georges Bidault, French Ambassador to Britain René Massigli and Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden discussed proposals for a new Société Franco-Britannique (FrancoBritish Society), which would strengthen relations between the two countries. In particular, Eden hoped to foster, ‘l’éducation, ou plutôt la rééducation de l’opinion publique britannique au sujet des questions françaises’.1 A later note stressed, ‘l’alliance franco-britannique est pour la France une impérieuse nécessité’. Policy-makers would be wise, it added, to capitalise on images of Britain’s heroic resistance and de Gaulle’s historic June 1940 declaration in order to communicate the importance of Franco-British cooperation in the future.2 Even as the war drew to a close, policy-makers were mobilising rhetoric to tell a particular story about how it had been won. They were using wartime images and experiences to sketch the outlines of a new post-war world. This book has argued that rhetoric matters. Rhetoric is an essential part of the policy-making process. Throughout the Second World War, rhetoric was instrumental in policy discussions in London and Vichy. It 1 2

Massigli to Bidault, 29 November 1944, 28QO/43, Ministère des affaires étrangères (henceforth MAE). ‘Note sur la Création d’une Association Franco-britannique’, 7 February 1945, 28QO/43, MAE.

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played a vital role in subsequent debates over those same policies, which developed in the mass media and public opinion in the metropole and further afield. Rhetoric was not simply the act of explaining a policy, it was a strategic tool of political persuasion. The arguments that were being constructed and disseminated via the highest levels of government policy-making establishments were crafted with the intention of convincing their readership to think about and discuss an issue in a particular way. The methods that were being used to construct these arguments told a story about how and why policy-makers mobilised material facts, historical imagery, cultural understandings and particular visions of the post-war future to justify their policies or condemn those of others. The debates that developed in response to these official justifications, in the mass media and the public sphere, provide insights into the standards and norms that were used to judge national and international policies. Accepting that statesmen used rhetoric in order to influence how an operation or an initiative was judged by a particular group or groups leads to a second assertion. Namely, public opinion or what decisionmakers and leaders believed to be public opinion had a tangible impact on final policies. Likewise, the mass media could echo or challenge the arguments made through official government statements. Governments in France and Britain alongside Charles de Gaulle’s Free French movement looked to the press as a reliable measurement of public opinion. They fashioned policy and policy justifications with this in mind. Rhetoric was a strategic policy-making tool in its own right, for de Gaulle, Vichy and the British. The way in which rhetoric was incorporated into military operations showed that military manoeuvres had not only strategic but also symbolic value. Policy-makers used rhetoric to gain power, prestige and credibility for themselves while simultaneously taking it away from a rival. This practice was at the heart of British–Free French rhetoric, which aimed to delegitimise Pétain’s Vichy government while advancing the notion of continuing Franco-British cooperation. Policy-makers also adapted their messages according to which audience they wanted to reach. These decisions illustrated the changing influence of discrete interest groups. At different points throughout the war, decision-makers focussed their efforts on shoring up opinion at home, gaining the respect of neutral opinion abroad and consolidating the support of anti-imperial nationalist groups. Rhetorical analyses do not just tell us one thing about policy-making, the press or public opinion. They deliver insights into how the priorities and aims of each of these groups shifted or remained fixed over time. They can tell us something about the underlying concerns that were driving these shifts. The manner in which policy-makers chose to craft policy justifications also tells us a great deal about the social and cultural values that informed

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high-level decision-making, mass media interpretations and public opinion. It provides insights into the worldviews of individual decisionmakers. For Britain and the Free French, moral and ethical arguments were central to their policy justifications. However, after debacles at Dakar and Syria (1941), both faced widespread public criticism that was based on understandings of wartime morality in which violence was justified and necessary. Central to British, Vichy and Free French rhetoric were also competing notions of what it meant to be French and who had the right to speak for the French nation. These debates were rooted in historic understandings of Frenchness or French identity as well as images of past Franco-British rivalry and Franco-British cooperation. They drew on varying definitions of French sovereignty in an attempt to determine whether it resided in metropolitan France or in London, Brazzaville and later Algiers, with Charles de Gaulle. In these rhetorical battles, empire played a critical role. It was a material asset and a symbol of legitimacy. It was the stage upon which these struggles were fought, militarily and rhetorically. In each case study that this book has examined, prestige played a central role in British, Free French and Vichy decision-making. After the Franco-German armistice was signed in June 1940, Britain had few offensive military options available. Launching a full-scale attack against Germany was out of the question. Taking decisive action against the French fleet, however, was achievable. Moreover, policy-makers knew that the British public and American officials, including President Roosevelt, supported action to neutralise the fleet. Operational planning and decision-making at Mers el-Kébir, including the decision not to offer Admiral Gensoul the option to demilitarise his fleet, was based on the understanding that any sign of flexibility would be interpreted as British weakness. After the bombardments, official statements and press responses portrayed the events at Mers el-Kébir as proof of British resolve in the present and a promise of Allied victory in the future. Emotive and historic rhetoric made Churchill into a national hero five years before victory in Europe was achieved. In the case of Mers el-Kébir, British policy towards the French fleet was not just a response to a strategic threat. It symbolised British commitment to the war effort. This had the effect of assuring American official opinion and boosting British morale at home. Rhetoric was used in a symbolic way to illustrate British strength and commitment to the war effort. On the other hand, silence, or the absence of rhetoric, was also a strategic rhetorical choice. Military debacles, such as the British–Free French operations at Dakar damaged British prestige, revealed the relative weakness of the Free French movement and shored

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up Vichy’s claims of imperial sovereignty. This experience influenced British, Free French and American planning in later operations. During the invasions of the Levant states in 1941, British policy-makers were intent to avoid the political embarrassment that they had experienced at Dakar. In the first major American-led offensive action in North Africa in 1942, Roosevelt hoped to extinguish any symbolic resistance from Vichy forces by stressing the American character of the operations. Despite the large numbers of British forces participating in the Torch landings, this fact was deliberately withheld from initial public statements. Emphasising the French character of joint British–Free French operations in Dakar and the Levant was another rhetorical strategy. British decision-makers hoped to minimise resistance from Vichy forces and avoid accusations of imperial encroachment. They also wanted to enhance the legitimacy of the operations by portraying them as a French initiative even though the majority of troops and the strategic plans were British. Official communiqués emphasising the inherent Frenchness of each operation showed how rhetoric was used to enhance the legitimacy and prestige of the Free French. De Gaulle’s movement was portrayed as the authentic representative of the French nation and French interests. British rhetoric supported the Free French directly. It also deliberately separated the French population from the ‘men of Vichy’. Despite its initial unpopularity and its difficulty in attracting members, the Free French movement was always symbolically important. It allowed Britain to argue that operations against French colonial territory were being carried out by French forces for the benefit of the French nation. For the Free French, rhetoric was a way to construct its legitimacy in the absence of material resources. This gap between the rhetoric and the reality of Free French influence was a source of frustration for de Gaulle and a factor in British–Free French tensions. De Gaulle’s response to British actions at Mers el-Kébir was typical of this reality. De Gaulle offered his public support of the bombardments notwithstanding his private fury. Between 1940 and 1944, de Gaulle had little choice but to publicly align British and Free French policies. Challenging Britain would acknowledge the overwhelming British power that held up the Free French movement. At the same time, Britain’s decision to back de Gaulle and the Free French as symbolic of French interests and ongoing Franco-British cooperation meant that any apparent tensions in the relationship would undermine Britain’s own wartime narrative and its proposed post-war vision. Battles over imperial holdings were vital for Vichy and Free France. Each side viewed empire as a symbol of its respective representative legitimacy. In each crisis point, British and Free French forces challenged

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Vichy’s right to freely govern the empire and fleet. The way in which the Vichy government responded to these challenges betrayed its preoccupations with shoring up its power and prestige. By casting blame exclusively on British territorial aggression and imperial rivalry, Vichy rhetorically marginalised the Free French movement. According to Vichy, operations in French colonial territory were simple cases of imperial land grabbing. De Gaulle and other members of the Free French became traitors and British agents who had lost all claims to French citizenship. Empire was just as important to de Gaulle and later the provisional French government. Having an empire signalled legitimacy and conveyed power and prestige on a global level. Both de Gaulle and the Vichy government believed that being able to demonstrate control over colonial territories would help them attain global status and recognition. By May 1945, the French Empire was even more important, as both France and Britain sought to find a way to maintain ties with strategically important mandated territories. At the same time, the reality of reconstruction at home, increasing demands from nationalist movements and a heavy reliance on loans from the anti-imperialist United States made demonstrations of imperial reform essential. It was at this point that French and British policy rhetoric began to depart from underlying policy goals. This was especially apparent in the Levant states. Here, and in the broader Middle East, both France and Britain hoped to preserve varying levels of strategic, economic and cultural influence by concluding preferential treaties with their colonies and mandated territories. Their ability to do this depended upon being able to exert more influence than the local nationalist groups that were beginning to demand unqualified independence. Between 1941 and 1945, British and Free French policymakers were under increasing pressure to adhere to their promises. The issue of Syrian and Lebanese independence caused a great deal of strain in both Franco-British and Franco-Levantine relations. More importantly, the debates that developed around this issue illustrated the authority that each side could bring to bear on a global level. Recognising that a strong rhetorical stance on the side of the nationalists would damage its relations with de Gaulle and its mandated territories, the British and Middle East Command in Cairo did their best to stay out of the fray and present themselves as a neutral middleman. However, Britain could only maintain this position credibly if France, Syria and Lebanon came to a mutual agreement on France’s future position in those territories without significant British intervention. This was not to be. What the three chapters on the Levant showed was that the success of British policy was inextricably linked to its prestige in the Middle East. Rhetorically backing Levantine independence was a policy that was increasingly

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at odds with its long-term strategy to preserve British interests in its own mandates and throughout the region. The violent repression of nationalist sentiment in Lebanon in 1943 and in Damascus in 1945 discredited French demands and forced Britain to exercise its superior military and political power. At the same time, it illustrated the influence of nationalist voices, which were mobilising the rhetoric of the Atlantic Charter against its authors. American and Soviet anti-imperial policies (whether rhetorical or actual) helped to internationalise discussions surrounding the future of empires. Forums such as the San Francisco conference and later the United Nations would serve as platforms upon which previously unrepresented states publicised their grievances to great effect. The crisis in the Levant was heightened by the fact that the Free French and later the provisional government never had the material resources to challenge British policy in the Middle East. Becoming the head of the provisional government in 1944 may have given de Gaulle official recognition and legitimacy as the head of the liberated French state. However, the economic and financial reality in France was dire. De Gaulle’s attempts to revitalise French prestige through a reformed empire faced challenges at home and abroad. These challenges reflected the disparity between French rhetoric and the reality of limited French material resources. In the Levant, French claims based on historic cultural influence were undermined by nationalist movements determined to make France adhere to their rhetoric of independence. Another way in which British, Free French and Vichy policy-makers tried to assert the credibility of their respective wartime policies was to justify them using moral, ethical and cultural imagery. Wartime decision-making was articulated through concepts such as duty, honour, valour and altruism.3 In the case of the British, the decision to continue fighting against the Axis powers after the French defeat in June 1940 was almost always portrayed as a moral decision. Churchill’s addresses promised that victory was guaranteed because Britain was on the ‘right’ side of the battle. One of his best remembered speeches, delivered in the House of Commons on 4 June 1940, did this by contrasting Britain’s glorious and fundamentally honourable past with Hitler’s ‘sinister’ and ‘perverted’ ideology.4 Victory over the Axis was never guaranteed

3

4

Michael Bess, Choices under Fire: Moral Dimensions of World War II (New York: Vintage Books, 2006), 3. Bess argues that these concepts are essential to understanding the nature of decision-making during the Second World War. Michael Burleigh, Moral Combat: A History of World War II (London: Harper Press, 2010), 170.

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as a matter of moral principle, but British victory in 1945 validated Churchill’s earlier rhetoric. Anticipated public reactions also influenced British operations against French colonial territories – how they were planned and how they were received. In the British operations against the French fleet at Mers elKébir, policy-makers were constrained by the prospect of civilian causalities. They ruled out violent operations at Algiers and the commercial port of Oran because bombarding these ports would lead to extensive civilian deaths. When Britain and its allies did use force against metropolitan France and its empire, it was often justified as an inevitable step towards victory. British rhetoric developed a two-part argument based on claims that operations such as those at Mers el-Kébir were necessary. First, destroying the fleet was essential in order to maintain the British war effort and eventually liberate metropolitan France. Second, German perfidy (they will eventually use the fleet against Britain) and French impotence (they will be unable to resist German pressure) made British actions inevitable. British operations at Mers el-Kébir were validated in the British press and by public opinion as an essential step towards victory. On the other hand, operational failures at Dakar and in the Levant in 1941 were criticised because they appeared to lack the necessary resolve, even if carried out against a former ally. After withdrawing without capturing the strategic port of Dakar, de Gaulle tried to save face by claiming that his decision was taken to avoid bloodshed and a battle between Frenchmen. However, both the British public and the mass media more broadly unreservedly criticised the withdrawal. It was, these groups claimed, contrary to the pursuit of victory. De Gaulle argued that withdrawal was justified because it was ethical. However, public opinion criticised de Gaulle’s explanations. The conflict called for even demanded decisive and unflinching action. Casualties were expected and accepted, and there was sometimes little inclination amongst the British public to consider the Vichy government and its armed defenders as anything but an enemy nation. During the British-Gaullist invasion and capture of the two Levant states in June–July 1941, discontent over the perceived softness of Allied forces again led to public criticism. Home Intelligence Reports warned that the public believed that the slow progress of Allied troops could be attributed to misplaced sympathy towards Vichy defenders. There was a great deal of support amongst the British public throughout the war for policies that appeared to align with the ultimate goal of victory. There was a significantly lower degree of sympathy for what were considered enemy casualties, even in some cases, civilian causalities in an enemy nation.

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After concluding the Franco-German and Franco-Italian armistices, Pétain’s Vichy government used rhetoric to refashion the unoccupied zone as a neutral state. Vichy’s position, either inside or outside of the conflict, was hotly contested. Britain claimed that imperial incursions against Vichy colonial territory were justified in the context of war. German control over French affairs and Vichy’s policies of collaboration, Britain argued, made it a key player in the wider conflict. On the other hand, Vichy argued that these operations were illegal and immoral acts of territorial aggression against a sovereign and neutral territory. After each imperial crisis, Vichy attacked the brutality of British aggression against sovereign territory. Not only were British actions unwarranted, Vichy argued, but they also subverted the traditional democratic process of negotiation by perpetrating a policy of deadly force against an innocent and unprepared former ally. To establish credibility for its criticisms, Pétain’s government had to convince other nations that unoccupied France was indeed a nonbelligerent. This was a difficult task. Even the United States, which recognised Pétain’s government, failed to sanction French criticisms against British policy towards France and its empire. In late June 1940, both Pétain and Darlan argued that the fleet was safe and that their honour bound them not to act contrary to the armistice terms. However, a week later, the majority of neutral countries, including the United States, argued that British actions were justified because the fleet was threatened by German forces. As the war continued, French concessions towards Germany further eroded its proposed neutrality in the eyes of international opinion. This was most apparent in the British–Free French operations to capture Syria and Lebanon. Minister for Foreign Affairs Admiral Darlan acquiesced to German demands for the use of Syrian Aerodromes in the spring of 1941 to support the anti-British uprising in Iraq. After the Allied invasions of North Africa in December 1942, Vichy would again grant German access to rebuff incursions in Tunisia. The total occupation of France in late 1942 put an end to any claims of metropolitan French sovereignty and legitimacy. The Second World War was not just a series of military battles. Its conflicts were also rhetorical. British, Free French and metropolitan French actors presented their own narrative of the conflict and of the post-war world that would result. The wartime narratives that were crafted by British, Vichy and Free French decision-makers were produced to shore up power, prestige and influence at home and abroad. This war of words showed how rhetoric, as a strategic tool of policymaking, played an essential role in the wider conflict. It illustrated the significance of empire, as a strategic and symbolic asset that was worth

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fighting over. It demonstrated that the press and public influenced how official policies were conceptualised, implemented and communicated. These rhetorical battles showcased how wartime policies and post-war expectations were being formulated, articulated, debated, judged and remembered. Rhetoric was used to assert strategic interests or camouflage a lack of material power. The language and imagery of press releases and speeches drew on social and cultural values to lend credibility to official arguments and to try and shape a particular public response. Historic images of Franco-British cooperation and rivalry suggested that events in the past could be used to make sense of circumstances in the present. When viewed this way, rhetoric becomes a powerful tool of persuasion as well as a robust method of historical analysis. It opens up greater understanding into how we try to or are persuaded to make sense of the world around us. And it underlines the undeniable importance of rhetoric, as a strategic tool of policy-making and method for asserting national prestige, legitimacy and influence.

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Index

air raids, 9, 124 Alexander, A.V., 31, 40, 60 al-Gaylani, Rashid Ali, 144 Algeria nationalists, 181 al-Hasani, Taj al-Din, 169 al-Khoury, Bishara, 211, 217 al-Khoury, Faris, 247 al-Quwatli, Shukri, 211, 252 Amery, Leo, 29, 122 Anglo-Egyptian treaty, 151, 206 Anglo-Iraqi treaty, 206 Anglo-Soviet treaty, 176 Annet, Paul, 175 anti-colonialism and national movements, 137 Arab League, 213, 232, 237, 242 Arcadia Conference, 176 Armée du Levant, 226 armistice (Franco-German) acceptance of terms, 39 attempts to renegotiate, 130 request for terms, 35 signing of, 43 Atlantic Charter, 224, 240, 243 Attlee, Clement, 256 Auchinleck, Claude, 144, 165 Barham (ship), 117 Baudouin, Paul, 32, 36, 91 Begin, Menachem, 213 Belgium German defeat of, 26 refugees (1940), 99 Ben-Gurion, David, 213 Bevan, Aneurin, 191 Beveridge Report, 196 Bevin, Ernest, 52, 256 Beynet, Paul, 249 Bidault, Georges, 238, 249, 260 Blamey, Thomas, 155 Blum, Léon, 141

Boissau, Robert, 187 Boisson, Pierre, 110 Bonnet, Henri, 220 Bordeaux Government. See Vichy French government Bracken, Brendan, 227 Brazzaville Conference. See empire (French) British Empire. See empire (British) British Information Services, 241 Brooke, Sir Alan, 176 Cadogan, Alexander, 28, 61, 82 Cambon, Roger, 45, 51, 64 resignation of, 92 Campbell, Sir Ronald, 32 Carleton Gardens. See Free French Casey, Richard, 212 Cassin, René, 162 Catroux, Georges, 137, 140 Cecil, Robert. See Cranborne, Lord Churchill, Winston reaction to Dunkirk evacuations, 29 speeches, 32, 37, 44, 50, 86–90, 131, 156, 246 visits to Paris, 24 vote of no confidence, 175 Clark Kerr, Archibald, 185 Clark, Mark, 187 Colville, John, 126 Comité Français de Libération Nationale (CFLN), 207 Commissariat de Information, 192 Commissariat Général à l’Information, 12 Commission d’Action Militaire (COMAC), 238 Commission du Débarquement, 219 Committee on Foreign (Allied) Resistance, 164 Congo (French) Brazzaville, 109 Pointe-Noire, 109

284

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Index Conseil National de la Résistance (CNR), 238 Constitutional Bloc, 211 Cooper, Duff, 26 broadcasts, 27, 52 Corbin, Charles, 19, 41 Cornwallis, Sir Kinahan, 224 Cranborne, Lord, 247 Crete, 154 Cumberland (ship), 117 Cunningham, Andrew, 60, 110, 177 Dakar. See Operation Menace strategic importance of, 106 Daladier, Édouard, 12, 76 Damascus French siege of (1920), 209 Darlan, François, 143 Berchtesgaden meeting, 144 presence in North Africa, 187 de Gaulle, Charles, 32 18 June declaration, 37 arrival in London (1940), 11 interview with George Weller, 168 leadership of CFLN, 218 perceptions of, 38 postwar planning, 218 primary aims of, 43 provisional government, 234–236, 238 radio addresses, 45, 47, 90 de Laborde, Jean, 191 de Verdilhac, Joseph, 164 decolonisation, 232 defeat (French) anticipations of, 24 interpretations of, 20–22 planning for, 27 Dejean, Maurice, 247 Dentz, Henri Fernand, 140, 143, 164 Dieppe, 174 Dill, Sir John, 144, 177 Druze massacre (Mount Lebanon 1860), 208 Dunkerque (ship), 60 Dunkirk. See Operation Dynamo Éboué, Félix, 121 Eddé, Émile, 217 Eden, Anthony, 116, 148, 191, 225, 230, 243, 255, 260 Egypt, 215 reaction to Lebanese arrests (1943), 224 Eisenhower, Dwight D., 177 el-Nahhas Pasha, Mustafa, 215

285 el-Solh, Riad, 217, 252 empire (British) and Middle East nationalism, 225 and Middle East public opinion, 163 and Middle East strategy, 141, 146, 204, 242–243, 258 postwar importance of, 241–242 wartime role, 52 empire (French) Brazzaville conference, 239–241 postwar importance of, 232, 235–237 threat of German occupation, 131 wartime allegiance of, 110 Entente Cordiale, 210 Farouk I, king of Egypt, 215 Faysal, Amir, 209 fleet (French) American opinion of, 64 public views on, 63 scuttling at Toulon, 189 strategic importance of, 59–60 Force de Raid. See Gensoul, Marcel-Bruno Forces Françaises de l’Intérieur (FFI), 238 France occupation by German troops, 189 Franco, Francisco, 180 Free French British opinions of, 111 Comité national français (1941), 188 founding of, 49–50 Free French Naval Force, 122 Free French Press Services, 168 French Equatorial Africa, 105, 121 political characteristics of, 238 French Committee of National Liberation. See Comité Français de Libération Nationale (CFLN) French Communist Party. See Parti Communiste Français (PCF) French Empire. See empire (French) French National Committee. See Free French French North Africa civil society, 181 French Union. See Union Française Gamelin, Maurice, 25, 140 Gensoul, Marcel-Bruno, 78–79, See Operation Catapult British press depiction of, 94 George VI, king of the United Kingdom, 60

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286

Index

Gibraltar, 113, 144 Giraud, Henri, 187 resignation of, 218 Giraudoux, Jean, 12 Godfroy, René-Émile, 67 Goree Island (ship), 117 Gouraud, Henri, 140, 209 Greater Syria frontiers, 210 Grew, Joseph, 249 Griggs, Edward, 241 Guinea (French), 119 Hadj, Messali, 181 Haganah, 213 Hailey, Lord, 241 Haining, Robert, 111 Halifax, Lord, 41, 50 Heath, Edward, 1 Helleu, Jean, 205, 217 HMS Hood (battle cruiser), 78 Holland, Cedric, 79 Home Intelligence (Ministry of Information), 125 Home Intelligence Reports, 11 Hull, Cordell, 191 Huntziger, Charles, 43, 158 independence. See sovereignty interwar, 19–20 Iraq anti British coup, 144 reaction to Lebanese arrests, 224 Irgun Zvai Leumi, 213 Irwin, Noel, 110 Ismay, Hastings, 113 Japan advances (1942), 174 Jebb, Gladwyn, 193 Jewish Agency, 213 Killearn, Lord. See Lampson, Sir Miles King-Crane Commission, 211 Lampson, Sir Miles, 151, 215, 242 Laurentie, Henri, 240 Laval, Pierre, 129, 178 dismissal of (1940), 157 Law, Richard, 221 Leahy, William, 159 Lebanon Mandate administration of, 208 British ultimatum (1943), 226 cultural ties to France, 139, 142

elections (1943), 217 independence proclamation (1941), 169 nationalism, history of, 208–210 Legentilhomme, Paul, 179 Lengyel, Emil, 104 Leopold, king of Belgium, 26 cartoon of, 47 Levant British and French withdrawal from, 257–258 formal recognition of, 237 Free French policy towards, 137, 161, 215–216 historic ties to France, 204 independence, 149–150 number of allied troops in, 226 rise of nationalism in, 211 strategic importance of, 205 Levant mandates. See Syria mandate and Lebanon mandate Low, David, 47 Lyttelton, Oliver, 161 Lyttelton–de Gaulle agreement, 166, 254 MacMillan, Harold, 221 Madagascar, 174–175, 179 Madrid, 107 Maitland-Wilson, Henry, 138, 150 Malta, 113 Mandates. See also Iraq, Lebanon, Syria, Palestine, Levant debates over independence of, 206 history of Franco-British rivalry in, 210 rise of regional nationalism, 231 Mardam, Jamil, 247, 250 Marshall, George, 176 Mass Observation, 11, 32, 37, 96 Massigli, René, 221, 245, 246, 260 Massilia, 42 Mers el-Kébir. See Operation Catapult Middle East. See empire (British) or Levant Middle East Command, 165 Middle East War Council, 212 Ministère de l’Information, 12 Ministry of Information (British), 11, 28 Moch, Jules, 240 Monclar, Raoul, 257 Monnerville, Gaston, 235 Montgomery, Bernard, 195 Morand, Paul, 31, 34, 38 Moroccan Action Committee, 181

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Index Morocco nationalists, 180 Morton, Desmond, 109, 146, 164 Mouvement Républicain Populaire (MRP), 238 Moyne, Lord, 213 Murphy, Robert D., 177 Murrow, Ed, 196 Naccache, Alfred Georges, 169 National Bloc, 211 nationalism. See empire (British), Lebanon, Levant, Syria Neó-Destour, 181 Noguès, Charles, 40, 180 North, Dudley, 60, 79, 113, 134 Office Français d’Information, 12 Office of Strategic Services, 174 Office of War Information, 180 oil, 141, 204 Operation Barbarossa, 160 Operation Catapult bombardment strategy, 78 effect on American opinion, 85, 97 Free French reaction to, 90–91 La Traédie de Mers-el-Kébir (propaganda film), 101 moral arguments for, 84 negotiations at Alexandria, 97 operational instructions for, 66–67 order to fire on French fleet, 81 Operation Dynamo, 25 public responses to, 30–31 statistics of, 28 Operation Exporter, 136 armistice negotiations, 164 launch of, 150 troop statistics, 161 Operation Ironclad. See Madagascar Operation Menace allied explanations of, 120 arrival of French reinforcements, 113 dismissals over, 134 Free French character of, 116 impact on Churchill’s popularity, 127 Operation Scipio, 109 operational strategy, 108 Vichy response towards, 113, 127 Operation Susan, 68 Operation Torch, 172 assassination of Darlan, 199, 200 Clark–Darlan agreement, 188 early iterations of, 176 exclusion of de Gaulle from, 177

287 launch of, 150 portrayal as second front, 185 Oran. See Operation Catapult Paget, Bernard, 230, 247, 252 Palestine mandate, 150, 207 governance of, 214 interwar unrest in, 213 Paris International Colonial Exposition (1931), 236 Parr, Robert, 159 Parti Communiste Français (PCF), 238 imperial policy, 241 Parti du Peuple Algérien, 181 Peel Commission, 213 Permanent Mandates Commission, 140, 211 Pétain, Marshal Philippe, 34, See also Vichy French government British depictions of, 44, 84, 147 ceding of administrative powers, 193 popularity of, 88, 157 speeches, 36, 39, 41, 48, 158 Political Warfare Executive, 12 Pound, Dudley, 41, 60, 80 Priestley, J. B., 29 propaganda (British) interwar planning, 24 Prouvost, Jean, 91, 101 provisional government (French). See de Gaulle, Charles Puaux, Gabriel, 142 public opinion policy maker views of, 10 purges (France), 238 Quatre Communes. See Senegal Renseignements Généraux, 12 resistance. See also Free French from French empire, 40–43, 50 in France, 238 Reynaud, Paul, 12, 24, 32 broadcasts, 26, 27 resignation of, 34 Richelieu (ship), 61, 117 Roget, Oliva, 230, 251 Rommel, Erwin, 174 Roosevelt, Franklin Delano attitude towards de Gaulle, 179, 214 communications with Britain, 60 postwar views of, 176 Rothermere, Harold, 122 Russia. See Soviet Union

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288

Index

Salazar, António, 180 San Francisco Conference, 237, 249 reaction to Damascus bombardment, 251 Sargent, Sir Orme, 256 Secrétariat Général à l’Information, 12 Sedan, 24 Senegal population structure of, 110 Service d’Information à l’Étranger, 12 Service d’Information Presse et Censure, 129 Service de la Propagande, 129 Service de Renseignements, 140 Service du Contrôle Technique, 12 Service Général d’Information, 24 Services de la Propagande (Vichy), 53 Sétif uprising (1945), 248 Sfax British bombardment of, 144 Shahbander, Dr Abd al-Rahman, 138, 211 Shone, Terence, 224, 230, 246 Singapore, 174 Siriex, Paul Henri, 168 Sirry, Husayn, 215 Smuts, Jan, 194 Société Franco-Britannique, 260 Somerville, James, 61, 79, See also Operation Catapult sovereignty, definitions of, 206 Soviet Union demands for second front, 173 German invasion of (1941), 160 relationship with Britain, 175 Spears, Edward, 33 appointment as Minister of State in Beirut, 170 meeting with Pétain, 34 Middle East policy, 163, 218, 245 resignation of, 246 Special Operations Executive, 174 Stalin, Joseph, 173 Stern Gang, 213 Stern, Abraham, 213 Stimson, Henry, 176 Strasbourg (ship), 60 Suez Canal, 204, 243 Sykes Picot agreement, 210 Syria Mandate cultural ties to France, 142

demographics, 139 Druze revolt (1925), 140 German propaganda in, 146 independence proclamation (1941), 169 shelling of Damascus (1945), 251 Treaty of Independence (1936), 141 Syrian People’s Party, 138 Temple, Richmond, 127 Thorpe, Jeremy, 1 Tirailleurs Sénégalais, 110 Tobruk, 174 Treaty of Lausanne, 208 Troupes Spéciales, 226, 250 trusteeship. See San Francisco Conference Tunisia nationalists, 181 Turkey, 144 union (Franco-British), 34–35 Union Française, 236, 240 United Nations, 237 United States entrance into the war, 172 French petition to, 33 imperial policies of, 231, 249 van Hemert Engert, Cornelius, 169 Vansittart Committee, 38 Vansittart, Robert, 83, 198 Vichy French government, 64 abolishment of Third Republic, 101 plans for imperial expansion, 112, 131 popularity of, 156–157 relationship with Britain, 107, 115, 129–130 relationship with Germany, 130 von Thoma, Wilhelm, 195 Wafd party. See Egypt Wavell, Archibald, 144, 164 Welles, Sumner, 194 Westerland (ship), 117 Weygand, Maxime, 25, 176 Yalta Conference, 246 Zionism. See Palestine mandate

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