The Spoiler

Charles de Gaulle may be stubborn, outrageous and unrealistic in his ambi tions for France, but his policies usual ly contain a degree of rationality. His opposition to British entry into Europe, however motivated it may be by anti-Anglo-Saxon prejudice, makes a certain amount of sense because British entry would surely bring problems and perhaps dangers to the Common Market. His recent diplomatic support of the Arabs against Israel, however in consistent with past French policy, makes a Machiavellian kind of sense because De Gaulle wants to increase French influence among Arab nations disillusioned with Russia and disgusted with the U.S. But it is difficult to see any rational basis for De Gaulle's crude intrusion into the delicate domestic affairs of Canada. When the old man shouted a rabble-rousing French separatist slogan at a Quebec crowd last week, he was merely being a troublemaker--and a clumsy one at that.

True, France has some practical interests in Quebec. At a time when De Gaulle is lavishing abuse on Britain, the U.S. and other "colonialist" powers, he himself has been diligently trying to set up-something akin to a colony in Quebec. In the past seven years, French investment in Quebec has doubled to more than $100 million, and De Gaulle's government organizes regular exchange programs for students, teachers and technicians. But economic interests were far overshadowed by De Gaulle's desire to extol a vague kind of French international glory.

From the beginning of his planned visit, De Gaulle made it clear that he was coming to see Quebec, more than the nation celebrating its centennial year. Rather than travel first to the federal capital of Ottawa, De Gaulle landed at the French possession of St. Pierre, 15 miles off Newfoundland, and sailed by cruiser up the St. Lawrence River to Quebec City--refusing to fly the Canadian flag as protocol dictates.

A Double Edge. In his first speeches, De Gaulle started off cautiously, but he kept talking about French Canadians as a people that must "take its destiny in its own hands." He led crowds in singing the Marseillaise and did not seem displeased when hecklers booed the Canadian national anthem. At Montreal's city hall, he responded before a large, excited audience: "I find myself in an atmosphere the same as that of the liberation of Paris." A few moments later, he shouted "Vive le Quebec libre," the notorious cry of Quebec separatists.

Some suggested that De Gaulle was turning senile (see MEDICINE) and that he had been merely carried away by the high emotion of the occasion. Not so. He deliberately built up to his climax and pronounced the offending words with careful emphasis and an actor's precision. Watching the scene on TV, Canadian Prime Minister Lester Pearson could hardly believe his ears, called for tapes of the speech.

Thousands of angry letters and telephone calls poured into government offices--many from French Canadians. After all, as the last provincial elections showed, less than 10% of Quebec's population actually support the separatists. "General de Gaulle's tour of Quebec," fumed the Montreal Gazette, "has been like that of a man in a world of fantasy. He has not only dimmed his own reputation; he has raised new doubts throughout the world about his aims and methods." Montreal's Mayor Jean Drapeau offered his own polite rebuke. "We are attached to this immense country," he said. "Our future lies with this country."

English Canadians were boiling. Pearson's government has only recently begun to ease the strains between English and French Canada and work out a new, delicate balance by giving the French Canadians a greater voice in Ottawa and in their own provincial affairs. After a four-hour Cabinet meeting, Pearson issued a statement acidly reminding De Gaulle that Canadians are not in need of liberation since they are free (at least as free as the French, he might have added). "Certain statements by the President," the Pearson statement continued, "tend to encourage the small minority of our population whose aim is to destroy Canada. As such, they are unacceptable to the Canadian people and its government."

Grandly Aloof. Many Canadians demanded stronger words, but the language was tough enough. Through his aides, De Gaulle announced that the Canadian statement was itself "unacceptable," canceled his trip to Ottawa and flew back to Paris.

There, most newspapers were just as hard on him as the Canadian press and public had been. "The bad manners of General de Gaulle may shock," said the usually pro-Gaullist Paris Presse-L'lntransigeant. "They should not surprise." De Gaulle remained grandly aloof. "There is no De Gaulle problem," said a presidential spokesman, "but a Canadian problem." The government claimed that the Canadian visit was a total success since it focused world attention on a Canadian problem too long submerged and glossed over. "I could not have done otherwise," DeGaulle confided to an aide after his return. "I would have failed in my historical role."

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