Failure of a Fetish

Once on a state visit to Paris, Abbe Fulbert Youlou, President of the Republic of the Congo, shook hands with Charles de Gaulle and boasted: "Like you, I am irreversible." Last week, on the third anniversary of his country's independence, Youlou was reversed right out of office by an explosion of his people's pent-up discontent.

His country, the ex-French colony called the "other Congo" to distinguish it from its anarchic ex-Belgian neighbor,* has long seemed quiet and peaceful. But when it came, Youlou's exit had all the revolutionary trimmings, including a storming of the local bastille and a mob outside the palace howling for bread.

Rise to the Top. Habitually clad in a cassock often topped by a Homburg, and said to have carried a pistol in his robes, Youlou at 46 was one of the world's most unusual statesmen. A member of the Lari tribe--his name means "fetish which cannot be grasped" --he was reared by Catholic missionaries and in 1946 ordained a priest. Later, in defiance of orders from his superior, Youlou ran for the French Assembly (he lost) and was suspended by the church, is still forbidden to say Mass. Because of his suspension, he was acclaimed by his countrymen as a victim of discrimination and elected mayor of Brazzaville in 1956. Exploiting Congolese superstitions, he soon had many voters convinced that his personal fetish, a small yellow crocodile, had "the power." With the advent of independence, Youlou was elected Premier and President, promising his new nation "tomorrows that sing."

He ordered a Paris couturier to run up a wardrobe of cassocks, in colors from mauve to bottle green. He savored imported champagne by the case and constructed a luxury hotel; when asked how he financed it, he replied: "I am spending the savings of poor maman. She sold nuts and vegetables."

Rise of the Critics. Meanwhile the country's timber-based economy stagnated. This year France cut off its $1,100,000 annual dole, and Youlou raised taxes. Basic food prices doubled, and as bush people kept streaming into crowded Brazzaville, 19 out of every 20 Africans in the city were without work. Then Youlou made his worst mistake--he asked Guinea's demagogic, leftish President Sekou Toure for a visit. Instead of uttering niceties, the guest electrified the locals with denunciations of African leaders who turn wealthy bourgeois.

Last month Brazzaville's three trade unions, one of which is Communist, demanded reforms. Youlou promised labor a say in a new, single-party government that he planned to proclaim. Satisfied, the unions eased off. But fortnight ago, word began circulating that Youlou was about to renege. Promptly the unions called a general strike; last week, on the eve of the strike, two labor leaders were arrested.

Fall of the Messiah. As the walkout began, Brazzaville was shut tight, and 1,500 demonstrators gathered for a morning rally at the railroad station. Suddenly mounted Congolese gendarmes charged them with sabers flashing. The ragged mob burst through police lines and surged toward the city prison, hurling stones and bricks. At the prison entrance, police opened fire, killing at least three. Undeterred, the mob battered down the steel gate, freed 480 elated prisoners. Moving on, the rioters set about burning homes and cars of government officials.

From his palace, Youlou pleaded with the French commander of the Congolese troops to take more vigorous action. "Shoot, shoot," Youlou cried, covering his ears. But his appeal was in vain. Although the French had 3,000 of their own men in the country under a defense treaty, and airlifted in another 1,000, orders from Paris were only to protect the presidential palace and French property. On the radio, Youlou announced a government reshuffle, but it was too late. Next morning the mob, now swollen to 10,000, again poured out of the city's two shantytowns. One man was heard to cry: "I have not worked in six months. I have not eaten in three days." Finally, resplendent in a white cassock, Youlou appeared on the palace steps, announced that he had resigned to prevent a bloodbath. With a thunderclap of cheers, the crowd broke up peacefully, and within hours Brazzaville was back to normal.

Taking over, the army chose as Provisional Premier Alphonse Massamba-Debat, 42, a moderate leftist and former Youlou Cabinet minister who fell from favor. In contrast to his Catholic predecessor, Massamba-Debat is a Protestant. Appointed with him was a seven-man Cabinet of French-trained technicians that failed to include any union leaders. Massamba-Debat hinted at prompt elections. As for Fulbert Youlou, he had saved his head at least so far, was spirited away to an army camp for safekeeping. Announced Massamba-Debat: "There will be no reprisals against Monsieur Youlou. He is a Congolese nobleman."

*Both call themselves Republic of the Congo, list themselves unofficially by the names of their capitals: Congo (Brazzaville) and Congo (Leopoldville).

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