THE massacres in the Sétif and Guelma regions on 8 May 1945,
described at the time as events or troubles in north Constantine,
marked the beginning of the Algerian war of independence. This episode
in the Algerian tragedy is one of the great turning points in colonial
history.
The ensuing upheavals dominated the political life of Algeria, which
grew increasingly independent of political developments in France as
the nationalist movement gained momentum. Each time France was at war,
in 1871, 1914 and 1940, militants hoped to exploit the situation to win
reforms or free Algeria from colonial rule. There were uprisings in the
Kabyle region and eastern Algeria in 1871 and in the Aurès mountains in
1916. But May 1945 was different. There were widespread fears of
another uprising but, despite claims, there is no evidence that it was
on the agenda.
The defeat of France in June 1940 changed the terms of the conflict
between the colonial power and Algerian nationalists. The French colons
felt threatened by the Popular Front, even though it had yielded to
pressure and abandoned its plans for Algeria, and welcomed the Pétain
government and the way it dealt with Jews, freemasons and communists.
After the US landings, the climate changed. The nationalists
believed the democratic and anti-colonialist rhetoric of the Atlantic
Charter (12 August 1942) and felt they must set aside their differences
and unite. The pro-assimilation movement broke up. The battle lines
were drawn: on one side, the Algerian Communist party and the Amis de
la démocratie, which advocated unconditional support for the Allied war
effort; on the other, the Algerian People’s party (PPA), under its
charismatic leader Messali Hadj, which was not prepared to sacrifice
the interests of Algeria to the fight against fascism.
The PPA and its supporters were joined by one of the most impressive
political figures of the day, Ferhat Abbas. He had dismissed the idea
of an Algerian nation in 1936 but now, although he still claimed to be
firmly rooted in French and western culture, he was in favour of “an
autonomous Algerian republic in federation with a new, anti-colonial,
anti-imperialist French republic”. When Pétain came to power, Abbas
sent memorandums to the French authorities but received no reply. In
desperation, he turned to the US and, with the support of the PPA and
the ulemas, dispatched the document, signed by 28 deputies and
financial advisers, that was to become the Manifesto of the Algerian
People on 10 February 1943.
History’s pace quickened. The French authorities continued to
overestimate their ability to control events and Charles de Gaulle
failed to understand the strength of the nationalist movements in the
old colonies. Contrary to what is often claimed, his speech at
Brazzaville on 30 January 1944 did not promise emancipation or
autonomy, even within the countries concerned. Pierre Mendès France
wrote to André Nouschi that “this was clear from the order issued on 7
March 1944, which revived the 1936 Blum-Violette project, granting some
65,000 people French citizenship and allowing Algerians to hold
two-fifths of the seats on local councils” (1). Too little, too late.
These tiny reforms, granted as a favour, did not affect French
domination or the preponderance of the colons.
This was a serious political situation calling for genuine
discussions with the Algerian nationalists, but Paris would not
negotiate with them. Their response to the order came a week later.
Following discussions between Messali Hadj, speaking for the
pro-independence PPA, Sheikh Bachir al-Ibrahimi for the ulemas, and
Ferhat Abbas for those in favour of autonomy, the nationalists joined
forces in a new movement, the Friends of the Manifesto and Freedom
(AML). Although the PPA was part of this movement, it retained its
independence. Its militants had more political experience, they knew
how to play the Islamic card and they concentrated on challenging the
legitimacy of colonial rule. The more activist and politically
sophisticated young people in the cities followed suit. There were
increasing signs of civil disobedience across the country. Positions
hardened on both sides. European colonists and Algerian Jews lived in
fear.
At the AML congress in May 1945 the PPA took over. The nationalist
leaders’ original plan to seek autonomous status in federation with
France was scrapped. The majority now opted for a separate state,
united with the other Maghreb countries, and proclaimed Messali Hadj
the undisputed leader of the Algerian people. The administration was
aghast and pressed Ferhat Abbas to dissociate himself from his partners.
The confrontation had been brewing since April. On the nationalist
side, the PPA leaders - to be precise, party activists led by Lamine
Debaghine - were delighted at the prospect of revolt. They hoped the
rise of millenarianism and calls for jihad would speed the success of
their cause, but their unrealistic dreams came to nothing. On the
colonial side, there were fears that the Algerians would drive the
Europeans into the sea, and the plot to remove the AML and PPA leaders,
hatched by the authorities at the instigation of a senior government
official, Pierre René Gazagne, was gradually consolidated.
On 25 April 1945 Messali Hadj was abducted and deported to
Brazzaville following incidents at Reibell, where he was under house
arrest. This lit the fuse. Some people, including the Islamic scholar
Augustin Berque (2), feared that a show of strength by the nationalists
might lead to US intervention. The PPA, furious at the seizure of its
leader, was determined to secure his release. The party decided to
march in a separate contingent with its own slogans in the labour day
procession on 1 May, since the largest trade union, the CGT, and the
French and Algerian communist parties had remained silent on the
nationalist issue.
In Oran and Algiers police and some Europeans were upset by the
nationalists’ slogans and opened fire. There were casualties, dead and
wounded, and many arrests, but the nationalists continued to mobilise.
North Constantine, bounded by the towns of Bougie, Sétif, Bône and
Souk-Ahras, was under army control at the time. On VE day people in the
region were preparing to celebrate the Allied victory in response to a
call from the AML and the PPA. The instructions were clear: there were
to be peaceful demonstrations to remind France and its allies of the
Algerian nationalists’ claims. There was no order to start an
insurrection. So why were the events confined to the Sétif and Guelma
regions? Why the riots, the massacres?
The war had raised hopes of an end to colonial rule and these were
encouraged by international developments. The nationalists,
particularly the PPA, wanted to force the pace and hasten the natural
course of events. All the available political resources were employed
to mobilise the people: calls for an end to poverty and corruption, to
defend Islam. Annie Rey-Goldzeiguer has pointed out rightly: “The only
safe haven, common to all sections of society, was religion, with jihad
as a weapon of civil rather than religious war. The call to jihad
induced a state of religious terror that found an outlet in warfare”
(3). Political maturity did not rank high in rural society, where
people followed their instincts.
On the European side, vague anxiety was succeeded by real fear.
Despite all the changes, the idea of treating Algerians as equals was
intolerable, to be avoided at all costs. Even the lesser threat in the
order of 7 March 1944 terrified them. Their response to the Algerian
claims was to call for militia to be formed and demand repressive
measures. They found a sympathetic ear in Pierre René Gazagne, the
prefect of Constantine, Lestrade Carbonnel, and the sub-prefect of
Guelma, André Achiary, who undertook to lance the boil.
In Sétif the trouble started when police tried to seize the PPA
flag, now the Algerian flag, and banners calling for the release of
Messali Hadj and Algerian independence. It spread to the surrounding
countryside, where tribes rose up.
In Guelma the events were triggered by arrests and the actions of
the militia, which provoked tribes to take revenge on local settlers.
The European civilians and the police responded with mass executions
and reprisals against entire communities. To remove all traces of their
crimes and prevent investigations, they opened mass graves and burned
the bodies in the lime kilns at Heliopolis. The army’s actions caused a
military historian, Jean-Charles Jauffret, to say that its conduct
“resembled a European wartime operation rather than a traditional
colonial war” (4). In the Bougie region about 15,000 women and children
were forced to kneel before a military parade.
The final toll is speculative, as the French government closed the
commission of inquiry directed by General Tubert and the killers were
never tried. We know all about the judicial measures that were taken
and the number of Europeans who died, but the number of Algerian
victims is a mystery and is still debated among Algerian historians
(5). The figures released by the French authorities are not reliable.
Pending impartial investigations (6), we must agree with
Rey-Goldzeiguer that, for 102 European dead, thousands of Algerians
paid with their lives.
There were many repercussions: any hopes of a deal between the
Algerian people and the European colony were off. In France the
political forces of the wartime resistance movement failed their first
test on decolonisation, allowing themselves to be taken over by the
pro-colonial party. The architect of the repressive measures, General
Duval, warned: “I have secured you peace for 10 years. If France does
nothing, it will all happen again, only next time it will be worse and
may well be irreparable.” The French Communist party, which described
the nationalist leaders as “paid Nazi agitators” and called for “the
ringleaders to be shot”, was generally considered to be in favour of
colonial rule, although it subsequently changed tack and called for an
amnesty. In Algeria, after the AML was disbanded on 14 May, the
pro-autonomy faction and the ulemas accused the PPA of playing with
fire, and the nationalist camp broke up. The PPA activists set a date
“for mounting a new kind of challenge” and called on their leaders to
set up a national paramilitary organisation. They emerged on 1 November
1954 as leaders of the National Liberation Front. But the Algerian war
really began at Sétif on 8 May 1945.
See also
An
important post for anyone who still assigns weight to ‘First Things.’ I
gave up on Asia Times several years ago, mainly because of the neocon
pugnaciousness of Spengler, who I assumed was acting as vicarious
amanuensis for the website owner. Same reason I gave up on pedantic,
prolific Richard Neuhaus: apologias for neocon wars ain’t Christian;
the Good (converted) Father can line up rhetorical angels on the head
of his pin till they are tumbling off the edges, but that doesn’t make
Iraq a just war under Catholic doctrine. Neuhaus should be obedient to
Rome and the clearly expressed intent of the recent Popes; he isn’t,
his defense of unjust war (which becomes a defense of murder)is a
disgrace to any thinking Catholic. What a disappointment from the
(then-Lutheran) author of ‘The Naked Public Square.’
(A nice rebuttal of his "Christian militarism" thesis can be read here:)
http://www.lewrockwell.com/orig9/paul-w1.html
Rosenzweig’s a complicated figure, and it’s an eccentric chink in
Spengler’s churlish armor that he remains so devoted to him. From
Wikipedia:
"Rosenzweig, while critical of Jewish scholar Martin Buber’s early
work, became close friends with him upon their actually meeting. This
friendship lasted despite their differences of political opinion: Buber
was a Zionist, while Rosenzweig was a strong defender of the
German-Jewish heritage and felt that a return to Israel would embroil
the Jews into a worldly history they should eschew (this position was
given a tragic tone by the death of Rosenzweig’s wife in a
concentration camp long after he himself had perished of disease)."
…
"Rosenzweig’s final attempt (he was dying from ALS) to communicate
his thought, via the laborious typewriter-alphabet method, consisted in
the partial sentence: "And now it comes, the point of all points, which
the Lord has truly revealed to me in my sleep, the point of all points
for which there—". The writing was interrupted by his doctor, with whom
he had a short discussion using the same method. When the doctor left,
Rosenzweig did not wish to continue with the writing, and he died in
the night, the sentence left unfinished."
Posted by:
Oarwell |
May 20, 2008 at 01:47 PM