Blank Check

An old French custom--democracy--bobbed up again last week in Paris, much to the embarrassment of the Government of Premier Edouard Daladier. For over a year the Premier has ruled his country with a firm--and sometimes heavy--hand by the simple expedient of persuading the French Parliament to grant him powers to issue decrees having the force of law. Before September M. Daladier's favorite argument for such powers was the deepening European crisis. Since September he has had an even better selling point--War.

Last week the decree powers granted to M. Daladier eight months ago expired, and he jauntily went before the Chamber of Deputies to ask for a renewal. This time the Premier wanted lawmaking powers not for a specified time, as has always been granted, but for the duration of a war which may last months or years. Parliament would have no set routine for reviewing and approving his decrees.

To France's democratically elected representatives all this smacked unpalatably of dictatorship--and at a time when France was supposed to be fighting for Democracy. Before voting the Premier his renewed powers they forced him publicly and formally to disown any intention of lessening Parliamentary prestige and control and to agree to "submit" his decrees to Parliament's "judgment" whenever practical.

Noteworthy it was that the Deputies made a big distinction between Daladier the Premier and Daladier the War Minister. Only praise was found for M. Daladier's conduct of the war. Party spokesmen from Socialist Leon Blum to Royalist Xavier Vallat applauded the War Minister's report of France's part in the conflict, cheered when he warned that should the "enemy Fuehrer" order the bombing of French cities (as has recently been threatened by the German radio), the French "will return blow for blow."

But Daladier the Premier was another story. His numerous decrees ending press freedom, clamping down a strict (and sometimes clumsy) censorship, his bland refusals to compromise, his crushing of the great French labor unions so that now French laborers are forced to work overtime for no extra pay and cannot effectively protest against either conditions or wages--all these things and others have caused widespread and deep-seated distrust. The Premier's argument last week that he must have a blank check from Parliament because "democracies find themselves in the presence of other regimes which can act rapidly and in secret" had a cold reception.

The British Parliament having sat, argued, debated and voted continuously since the war's outbreak with no noticeable hindrance to the military, the French Chamber of Deputies could see no reason why it should shut up shop. Rightist Louis Marin got a big hand when he insisted that Parliament, far from obstructing the Government, would be a wartime help. M. Blum disavowed politics, but refused to "accept the text of a law that would transfer totalitarian powers" to the Government. The Chamber tried to argue M. Daladier into submitting all decrees to Parliament within a month of issuance. The Premier would only promise to do so provided Parliament was in session. "I cannot continue my task unless the powers I asked are voted," he stubbornly insisted.

Deputy after deputy, even those of M. Daladier's Radical Socialist Party, declared their opposition, but in the end they also declared they would vote for the Premier only because they feared the effect a change of Government at this time would have on the Army and on French international relations. It was no great testimonial to M. Daladier that he was finally upheld by 318-to-175, the big Socialist group refusing to go along. Next day, in the Senate, M. Daladier won more easily--259-to-23.

Kicking Communist. A high plane of non-partisan debate ruled the twelve-hour session except for the untimely appearance of Communist Deputy Florimond Bonte, who, since an order for his and other Communist Party members' arrest was issued, has been in hiding. Members howled as Deputy Bonte took his usual seat. Premier Daladier stopped talking. Dignified old President of the Chamber Edouard Herriot bellowed: "M. Bonte, your presence here at such a time constitutes a scandal. I invite you to leave."

Instead of leaving, M. Bonte tried to make a speech. Monitor Edouard Barthe pushed him back into his seat. Two uniformed attendants dragged the kicking, resisting Communist out of the building, where police grabbed him. The Chamber voted to end M. Bonte's Parliamentary immunity, and he was soon transferred to Sante Prison, Paris. "The French Parliament cannot deliberate in the presence of traitors," was Premier Daladier's comment.

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