A Riotously Unhappy Anniversary

By Frederick Painton

FRANCE After two years of Socialism, the mood turns testy and resentful

On May 10, 1981, youthful Frenchmen were careering jubilantly through the streets of Paris, trailing red flags from their cars and chanting, "We've won! We've won!" Standing in the chill spring rain at the Place de la Bastille, others laughingly shouted, "Mitterrand, give us some sun!" Even as a joke, that demand was a measure of the Impossible hopes raised by French President Franc,ois Mitterrand's election victory two years ago, a historic occasion that brought to an end 23 years of conservative rule.

Last week, though, neither Mitterrand nor his ruling Socialist Party observed the second anniversary of his mandate with so much as a public toast or official reference. Any celebrations, in fact, would have been unseemly in the face of widespread disillusionment in France that, under the pressure of economic austerity, is deepening into a testy, resentful mood. On this year's rainy May 10, the youths on the streets were students protesting education reforms. Instead of red flags and roses, they carried anti-government placards and, occasionally, crowbars to use against riot police.

Once again, spring was bringing forth the strains and tensions of a society that never has accepted easily the constraints of government or the call for sacrifice in the national interest. Clouds of tear gas rising over the center of Paris, gangs of masked students clashing with riot police in the Latin Quarter, banner-bearing protest marchers, including farmers, doctors, teachers, retailers and small businessmen--all these signs of widespread unrest seemed disturbingly familiar to many Frenchmen. There were nagging fears of a repetition of the popular upheaval in May 1968 that rocked Charles de Gaulle's regime to its foundations and led to his departure from office a year later. Was the same thing now happening, in reverse, to a Socialist President?

The answer, according to government officials, leaders of the opposition and even most of the demonstrators, was that history was not repeating itself. Beyond the folklore of protest, the political realities of 1983 bear little resemblance to those of 1968. Above all, this time militant students lack the support of the unions and workers, who tend to regard them as part of the privileged bourgeois elite. Alain Krivine, one of the leaders of the 1968 uprising and now head of a Trotskyite splinter party, recalled that "we had 60,000 to 70,000 students in the streets." In the past three weeks, fewer than 10,000 students have turned out for any given protest. Said Krivine: "Today's movement is divided between left and right. It is reformist, while ours was an explosion against a whole society."

Nor do the students have any real link with the merchants, doctors and farmers. Says Charles Millon, a leader of the Union pour la Democratic Franc,aise, founded by former President Valery Giscard d'Estaing: "What is going on is an expression of corporatist, or special interest, discontent in French society." So far, the mood has translated into a bewildering checkerboard of largely middle-class protest. Hospital interns and senior clinic physicians struck nationwide for five weeks, protesting a government plan that would reduce their chances for promotion. University students are objecting to a sweeping plan, drawn up by Education Minister Alain Savary, that they say is threatening academic freedom by proposing to make universities more responsive to the needs of the economy. Medical students are opposing exams designed to determine who will be allowed to become specialists, while pharmacy students are refusing to accept official plans to prolong their studies by a year. All this is hardly the stuff of revolution, but it was heady enough to inspire many rightist students to lead last week's more violent demonstrations in Paris, where dozens were injured and more than 100 arrested. In Cannes, about 500 medical students disrupted the annual film festival by building bonfires of smoking rubber tires in front of the festival site, until dispersed by police with tear gas. Protesters also clashed with police in Lyon and Bordeaux.

In an attempt at conciliation, Savary last week received a delegation of representatives from five Paris universities but rejected any significant concessions. As a result, the students are planning to stage a climactic protest on May 24, when the National Assembly begins debate on the controversial education bill. Students from all over the country are expected to try to mass around the parliament in a show of strength that, inevitably, will be challenged by tough riot police.

Perhaps the most surprising demonstration was the march by more than 10,000 shopkeepers and other small businessmen a fortnight ago to protest government price controls and other austerity restrictions. Accompanied by a goat on a leash, symbolizing the marchers' refusal to be scapegoats for the squeeze, the middle-aged multitude was tear-gassed by the police at the Pont d'Alma in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. Said Jean Brunei, vice president of the 1.5 million-member Small and Medium Business Confederation: "We are demanding the freedom to manage our own businesses as we choose." Farmers, meanwhile, were planning to pursue their running protest against the government's failure to secure higher prices for their commodities. In Brittany, they went on window-smashing rampages, while in the southwest they barricaded highways in search of imported produce. Says Rudi Roussillon, spokesman for the 700,000-member National Federation of Farmers: "We are not political militants but people with real economic problems."

France's disparate outbursts of discontent only reflect what opinion polls have been recording for months: the Socialist government's steady fall from favor. The proportion of the population dissatisfied with the government's performance has risen to 52%, compared with 27% only a year ago. Still, rebellion was hardly a threat, if only because the political opposition prudently has avoided exploiting the scattered disorders. Former Premier Raymond Barre warned his supporters not to "fan the flames." Neo-Gaullist Leader and Paris Mayor Jacques Chirac broke a long silence to warn against "an agitation that is dangerous for the social and political equilibrium of the country." Mitterrand need not call new legislative elections until 1986, and the next presidential election is scheduled for 1988. Said an official of Chirac's Rassemblement pour la Republique: "We could put a million people on the Champs-Elysees, but what good would that do?"

Still, the Socialist government faced a continuing erosion of its authority because of a growing lack of conviction that its harsh economic medicine will work. Faced with a weak franc, record trade deficits and about 10% inflation, Finance Minister Jacques Delors last March imposed an austerity plan that was harsher than anything his conservative predecessors ever proposed. He chopped $7 billion in current spending, imposed a 1% personal income surtax and required each taxpayer to make a loan to the state equal to 10% of last year's income tax. The measures would diminish the purchasing power of virtually all Frenchmen, but they were especially resented by the already hard-hit middle-and upper-income brackets.

In the eight weeks since Delors presented his program, almost nothing has gone right for the government. The French were deeply irritated by a strict $285-a-year ceiling on the amount of money they could spend on vacations abroad. The new tax burdens were considered "too heavy" for workers. Then came the unexpectedly sharp rise of the dollar against the franc (7% since mid-March), which bowled over the goals that Delors had set for his plan. Even the official National Institute of Statistics and Economic Studies concluded that inflation could not be reduced to 8% by the end of the year and that the trade deficit would be closer to $8.6 billion than the targeted $6.4 billion.

With the franc under pressure again, disagreement within the Socialist Party over economic policy is bubbling up publicly, adding to a general perception of governmental disarray. Disaffection is strongest among left-wing Socialists and some Communists. They argue that instead of meekly accepting painful austerity, the government should 1) withdraw from the European Monetary System, which links seven major European currencies; 2) correct the trade imbalance through protectionist import restrictions; and 3) concentrate on creating jobs. Jean Poperen, the party's deputy leader, last month charged that the government was losing its "popular support" and called for a return to the "class struggle" as the Socialists' central theme. Edmond Maire, leader of the Socialist-dominated Confederation Franc,aise Democratique du Travail, has repeatedly criticized the government for failing to consult the unions before making unpopular economic decisions.

Assailed from both the left and the right, the Socialists' economic management now rests with the respected, hard-headed Delors, who is struggling to repair the mistake the Mitterrand administration made when it sought to spend its way out of recession. Delors is gambling that his package will start to show results by autumn--if there is a global economic recovery that helps buoy French exports and visibly cuts into unemployment. But he is facing daunting deadlines. The first comes in October, when his anti-inflation strategy will be tested in wage negotiations with 4 million public service workers. The next is the Socialist Party Congress in the fall, the first in two years, when party radicals are expected to challenge present economic policy.

If most Socialist leaders are not yet frightened by the current street disturbances, they are afraid that the impact of austerity eventually could stir up worker protest. Says Socialist Deputy Christian Pierret, the influential chairman of the National Assembly's finance committee: "I am far more concerned about the impatience that is developing in certain segments of the working class. In Paris, union leaders continue to support the government, but in many factories in the provinces there is a slow burn developing among workers." Nevertheless, he insists, the government must stick to austerity for at least two more years. "We are not out of the tunnel," says Pierret. "We must hold on."

--By Frederick Painton. Reported by William Blaylock and Jordan Bonfante/Paris

With reporting by William Blaylock, Jordan Bonfante This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.