FRANCE: CAMPAIGN AGAINST CHAOS

EIGHTEENTH century France bequeathed to the modern world the concepts of revolution and popular democracy--and last week the French seemed bent on perilously trying to practice both at the same time. As the campaign to elect a new National Assembly got underway, rioting and violence erupted anew in cities throughout France. For a while it looked as though the explosion of police concussion and tear-gas grenades might blot out the appeals for votes by the 2,260 candidates running on broadly diverse platforms in Metropolitan France's 470 electoral districts (see box).

Heavy Toll. After eight days of relative calm, violence flared afresh when a 17-year-old boy, fleeing from police in a town outside Paris, jumped into the Seine and drowned. Enraged, Paris students surged from the Sorbonne and the coffee shops back onto the boulevards, rebuilt barricades and fought an all-night running battle with police. Fighting also erupted in Toulouse, Lyon, St.-Nazaire and the automaking town of Sochaux, where two townspeople were killed. The renewed rioting took a heavy toll of the French economy, stalling the back-to-work movement at a time when 500,000 workers still had not returned to their plants. In his new role as Finance Minister, Maurice Couve de Murville conceded that France not only faced a budgetary deficit of $2 billion this year but might also be forced to sell some of its $5 billion gold reserves in order to meet a looming gap in its balance of payments. It all meant, explained Foreign Minister Michel Debre, that (Quelle horreur!) France would have to cut back on De Gaulle's prized nuclear strike force.

Seeking to head off a recurrence of full-scale civil disorders, Charles de Gaulle cracked down hard. After conferring with his ministers, he banned eleven student revolutionary groups, barred street demonstrations for the duration of the campaign, and ordered the expulsion of troublemaking foreigners; 154 have so far been deported. Climaxing the drive, police even invaded the historic Odeon theater, which had served as a revolutionary sanctuary since May 15. Dislodging the occupying students, who put up no fight, the police then tore down the red and black flags that flew over the old building, replacing them with three Tricolors.

Communist Tactics. The violence may well be the determining factor in the elections, which will be held in two rounds, the first balloting to take place on June 23, with the runoff elections on June 30. There are no foreign policy issues involved. Though there are some economic worries, the overriding immediate issue is simply who can best maintain order in France, and then, in the long run, solve the antagonisms and grievances that have been exposed in recent weeks. Fearing that De Gaulle will benefit from a backlash law-and-order vote, the Communists have redoubled their efforts to cool the situation. "Every time somebody gets socked, it's worth at least 100 and perhaps 1,000 votes to the Gaullists," said one ranking French Communist. To counter this, the Communists sought to project themselves as a patriotic party of moderation. "We are not adventurers!" cried Party Boss Waldeck Rochet. In the worst moments of the revolt, he claimed with some justification, it was the Communists who had "barred the road to bloody adventure." His appeal: "For peace and national independence, vote Communist."

Waldeck Rochet's tactics showed the remarkable transformation of what only a decade ago was Western Europe's most rigidly Stalinist party. Nevertheless, the Gaullists continued to hammer home to French voters that they have only two choices: De Gaulle or totalitarian Communism. "The danger is still there," warned Premier Georges Pompidou. "If the opportunity should present itself anew, the totalitarian party is ready to start again to seize power." Though this view was rejected by De Gaulle's opponents, it had an undisputed appeal to conservative Frenchmen, especially those in the provinces, who are shocked by the violence and economic paralysis that seized France--and suspicious of the Communists.

The other parties struggled desperately to carve out a middle position between Gaullists and Communists. Warning that a return to Gaullism would lead only to another crisis, Francois Mitterrand, leader of the non-Communist Federation of the Democratic Socialist Left, declared that only his party "offered a third road--a new alliance between socialism and liberty." In the rural areas, the federation has lost the support of many of its backers because it is linked in an electoral alliance with the Communists. In a jet-hopping tour across France, Centrist Leader Jacques Duhamel pleaded: "Let us not break France in two." His solution, of course, was a government of the center in which moderate factions from right and left could participate. The danger for the centrists was that French voters might feel that any vote not cast for one of the two major parties would be wasted.

Rabbit Stew. Seeking all the support he can muster, De Gaulle freed eleven imprisoned members of the old "French Algeria" Secret Army Organization (O.A.S.), including its old chief, General Raoul Salan, who was serving a life term. Taking advantage of De Gaulle's mood, one of his bitterest enemies returned to France. He was Georges Bidault, 68, a Fourth Republic Premier who fled the country in 1962 after being implicated in an O.A.S. plot to overthrow De Gaulle. Bidault, an extreme rightist, seemed unlikely to play a major role in the elections, but he indicated his willingness to stand for office and aimed withering criticism at Gaullism ("What is Gaullism without De Gaulle if it is not stew without a rabbit?").

French political experts were unaccustomedly wary about predicting what the election outcome might be. The present prospects are that the Communists will gain some seats in the National Assembly, but that the Gaullists and their Independent Republican allies will win--or come very close to winning--the working majority that De Gaulle so dearly desires. But in a few short, tumultuous weeks, most of the accepted premises of the Fifth Republic have been swept away, and no one can be sure what shape France may take by vote or violence.

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