The rise of the far right, capitalism in crisis and the return of war to European soil thanks to the actions of an autocrat. It is more tempting than ever to make an analogy between our current era and the 1930s. In France the current government's rhetoric against the “extremes” fits into this idea that history is repeating itself. President Emmanuel Macron himself said back in 2018 that he was “struck by the resemblance between the times we are going through and the inter-war period”.
In his 2023 book 'La France des années 1930' published by Seuil, the historian Renaud Meltz is well aware of the “collective memory's obsessive curiosity about this period”. But the professor, who is also research director at the CNRS research centre, immediately rejects the notion that history is repeating itself, while at the same time not denying there are contemporary echoes of the past.
During his interview with Mediapart the historian discusses how the contradictions of liberal democracy were heightened during that crucial decade, the old controversy about how much France was permeated by fascism at the time, and the elites' wavering in the face of international tensions.
Enlargement : Illustration 1
Mediapart: In the introduction to your book you emphasise the fact that “history doesn't repeat itself, not does it follow a linear logic”. So how, then, do the 1930s resonate with modern times?
Renaud Meltz: The 1930s fascinate because they chime with the feeling that you're living in a dangerous period, one of traps, multiple crises and a rise in authoritarian, even warlike, solutions. Historians themselves steer clear from the illusion of a cyclical repetition. They get to leave the present day in order to understand the past – the experience of our crises, whether health or geopolitical, thus helps us to understand what was, for the 'inhabitants' of the 1930s, a worrying future.
The historian also searches in the past for an understanding of the present: in this respect one has to remember the anthropological changes which began in this era and which turned out to be lasting: such as the liberation of children and women from the paternal figure in the family domain.
The historian's work is also about recalling factors that have been erased from the collective memory or the futures that did not take place. For example, the 1930s contained the stirrings of environmental thought. Finally, and most particularly, there are continuities that precede the 1930s and which have been there subsequently.
Mediapart: Which is the most important of these?
R.M.: Without doubt the centuries-old dialectic between modernity and anti-modernity, which has been going on since the Enlightenment. There's a permanent fear that modernity no longer allows a society to be constructed. In 1934 when [radical left politician] Gaston Doumergue blamed the forces on the Left for his failure to keep a government of national unity going, he gave an interview in which he attacked growing individualism, the fact that modern freedom went too far, that there were no more collective frameworks, no more patriotic sentiment. These themes went on to be at the heart of the National Revolution [editor's note, the ideology of the Vichy regime in Occupied France].
It was not so much hatred but fear of democracy that can be seen in France in the 1930s. This fear is found today in the fascination for authoritarian regimes that appear strong, and in concern over the fragility of liberal regimes, characterised by uncertainty and the time spent in debate, which can appear unbearable at a time of crisis. This fear of democracy goes beyond the elites, it concerns all levels of society.
Yet the past teaches us that democracies are not inevitably weak regimes or lacking the resources to be able to confront complex challenges.
Mediapart: What doubtless fascinates us about the 1930s is also their tragic outcome and the inability to avoid that. Doesn't this obsessive memory stem from a persistent problem in accepting the humiliation of 1940 and the Occupation of France by Germany?
R.M.: It's clear that the trauma of 1940 had an impact on public opinion and the elites. It legitimised the decision to have a nuclear deterrent, which was presented as an absolute guarantee of no more invasions ever again – as if threats recur in the same way.
The defeat was largely due to a blindness shared by the diplomatic and political elites. They were deceived as to the bellicose dynamic of the Nazi regime and thought that things would go well in the West by sacrificing the interests of our allies to the east. Even the military reined back the military reaction in the face of German rearmament, particularly during the militarisation of the Rhineland in 1936.
Beyond the world of leaders, the French public was massively pacifist. When there was significant rearmament under the Front Populaire there was little response in the country.
What's striking is the extent to which French diplomacy vacillated during those years.
Mediapart: You devote a chapter to the attempts at appeasement with Nazi Germany in 1935. What made this decision possible? What was the set of restraints on diplomats and French leaders during this decade?
R.M.: What's striking is the extent to which France's very euro-centric diplomacy vacillated during those years, with a frequency even greater than I used to think before writing the book. It signed up to very different systems of international organisation one after another, in a very short space of time.
The start of the decade was still marked by the pacifist spirit of the end of the 1920s, thanks to the Pact of Locarno in 1925 [editor's note, in which the western borders of Germany were recognised by France and Belgium and guaranteed by the United Kingdom], the integration of Germany into the League of Nations in 1926, and finally the Pact of Paris [editor's note, often known as the Kellogg-Briand Pact] in 1928, under which 63 countries condemned the “recourse to war for the solution of international controversies”.
In 1931 a first turning point occurred as a result of the new new moratorium proposed by the United States on the payment of German war reparations. Pierre Laval, who was then president of the Council [editor's note, the prime minister of France], knew that conciliation with this bad payer was unpopular. He publicly attacked the German policy and secretly undermined a disarmament conference held in Paris.
Paradoxically, once the Nazis were in power in 1930, French leaders did not harden their tone. On the contrary, they negotiated with the Hitler regime as part of the 'Four Power Pact' drawn up between Italy, Germany, France and the United Kingdom. The agreement had very little force legally but it did mark the return of the spirit of a very 19th century-style of European entente, when the great powers did deals among each other, far removed from the democratic multilateralism that had ended up prevailing with the creation of the League of Nations.
Enlargement : Illustration 2
A further short-lived turning point occurred when Louis Barthou was at the ministry of foreign affairs. He was committed to a policy of encircling Germany by restarting bilateral relations with the Soviet Union, which he cleverly gave an appearance of being multilateral.
After Barthou was assassinated in October 1934 Laval took over the reins at the Quai d'Orsay [editor's note, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs] again. But he did not repudiate the mutual assistance pact with Moscow for trivial domestic political reasons – he needed supporters on the Left to be elected a senator. But he emptied it of all military content, with the blessing of diplomats and the army general staff. In reality the pact was abandoned.
Afterwards there was a three-way agreement concluded in April 1935 at Stresa, with the Italians and the British, in reaction to German rearmament which was becoming formalised. But that didn't last long either. Italy, which started a war in Ethiopia in defiance of international law, damaged the authority of the League of Nations and worried British imperialism. French diplomacy, which lazily followed the condemnation of Italian aggression, did not manage to get an agreement in return that London would commit to protecting the borders in central Europe.
In the end, France found itself alone and chose conciliation with Germany until December 1938. To a large extent its elites deceived themselves as to the possibility of appeasement with the Nazi regime, which finally seemed an illusion after the dismantling of what remained of Czechoslovakia in March 1939.
The “concentration” … consisted of bringing together the “real Republicans” without really knowing what that meant.
Mediapart: The other recurrent problem that you tackle is that of the institutions. In terms of comparisons, isn't there here a clear difference with our time, given that at that period the issue was about reinforcing the executive in relation to Parliamentary game-playing, while today we are suffering more from the reverse problem?
R.M.: It's true that the institutions are very different, what lingers under the Macron presidency is government from the centre, to the detriment of bipolarsation, the rotation of power, and the clash between interests and principles, which were accused of harming the nation. That's what gave rise to a policy of “concentration”, as it was put in the 1930s, which was supposed to keep away the spectre of “extremes”.
The idea consisted of bringing together the “real Republicans” without really knowing what that meant. During the 1930s the Radical Party was the pivot point for the construction of centrist majorities. It endlessly hesitated over alliances, was slow to develop a common programme with the Right or Left, and sought the lowest common denominator at the risk of immobilism.
This dread of division, stronger than in other countries where liberalism was not republican in nature, doesn't date from the 1930s. French republicanism was marked very early on by a holistic concept of the general interest, of a collective good worth more than individuals which paradoxically brought it close to an anti-modern Right which also feared the crumbling of French society.
This culture is a permanent feature of modern French politics but it becomes more or less prominent according to different moments. The dread of division was great in the 1930s and led to freedoms being eroded, because the attraction of the communist and fascist models fuelled antagonisms.
The resort to “concentration” is evidence of a lack of confidence in democracy. It starts from the principle that a collective project must bring the nation together, but that can't develop spontaneously. You must keep working at it, it has to be the subject of continual discussion.
Mediapart: There's a major historiographic controversy between those who claim that France had accommodated the origins of fascism and those who judged it to have been relatively immune from it. With some nuances, you more strongly reject the first thesis?
R.M.: This dispute has become sterile because it is has become about some individuals, some camps and even some institutions to the detriment of the debate.
My definition of fascism is close to that given by the Italian historian Emilio Gentile. He focussed on the fascist objective of the regeneration of man and a nation through the ordeal of war. That France was seduced by fascism, one shouldn't deny. In the ranks of the Right, Mussolini's regime in Italy was seen as a welcome barrier against communism. But the desire for fascism at home remained a very minority view.
That doesn't mean that France was immune against hatred or fear of liberal democracy. Its rejection existed in our country as it did elsewhere, the way in which it surrendered to the National Revolution after the defeat [editor's note, by the Germans in 1940] shows us that. But for most of those who were “anti-modern” in the 1930s, the fear of the emancipation of the individual and a hatred of communism did not take on the garb of fascism.
In my view, that's explained by the fact that World War I didn't have the same effects everywhere. France suffered from the war while being on the side of the winners who could not complain about the peace treaties. It emerged exhausted from the conflict while having a strong interest in the status quo. Society was massively pacifist and didn't want to recreate a new man through war.
More than a “return” to fascism as such, the “real” lesson of the 1930s is that a fear of democracy can encourage authoritarian solutions.
Mediapart: Part of the controversy lies in the way one views the abortive experiencee of the Parti Social Francais (PSF), a successor party to the Croix-de-Feu party of Colonel François de La Rocque. It was the party with the most members in the history of France, even if the war prevented its elector clout from being measured.
R.M.: The success of the PSF was indeed astonishing. Faced with a ban on leagues that were considered to be rebellious, in the years that followed the riot of February 6th 1934 the Croix-de-Feu made the choice to become partisan. Could France have given itself over to an authoritarian nationalist Right as represented by the PSF? One can attempt the intellectual exercise, but it will remain speculation.
What is certain is that one must not underestimate the terror and hostility of the French bourgeoisie faced with the Popular Front [editor's note, the alliance of the radical Left, socialist and communists at the 1936 elections] including its liberal and republican elements. More than a “return” to fascism as such, the “real” lesson of the 1930s is in fact that a fear of democracy can encourage authoritarian solutions, to passivity in the face of their arrival.
Mediapart: The lasting impact of the Popular Front experience has been very strong. In particular, the episode fuelled the mythology of a union of the Left. Yet you emphasise its brevity: can one go so far as to say it was an anomaly in that decade?
R.M.: Yes in the sense that it relates to a short phase during which the Radical Party stopped playing the game of the centre and focussed governments. The rightwing of the party was also soon weakened by the link to the Popular Front. It was the only moment of bipolar confrontation in the decade and it scared everybody!
Once in government the Left itself scarcely believed in it. That was seen in several decisions made by the socialist Léon Blum, who became president of the Council [editor's note, prime minister]. He dared not put votes for women on the agenda because that didn't feature in the manifesto; his diplomacy was timid, especially in relation to the Spanish Republicans, victims of Franco's coup d'État and the latter's fascist supporters; he took on board the fears of the middle classes when he took economic and financial measures that were ultimately quite timid, despite the happy outcome of Jean Zay on the educational and cultural front...
The idea of a “pause” [editor's note, in the Front's social legislation] in February 1937 rested on an analysis that French democratic culture was not strong enough to withstand this bipartisan confrontation, without a risk of civil war. One also has to admit that in power the Left came under enormous pressures, including from the entire press which expressed the fears of the middle classes.
Mediapart: During this decade one figure played an important role: Pierre Laval (1883 to 1945). In the collective memory it is his policy of collaboration during the Occupation that is remembered above all. But at the start of the decade he was president of the Council and foreign affairs minister several times, without having any backbone or vision. What does the fact that he acquired such responsibilities tell us?
R.M.: Laval's success was that he represented a rejection of ideology and represented supposed “common sense”, which was intellectual laziness and a refusal to debate. The rule of ideas was harmful as far as he was concerned, he refused to acknowledge divisions and happily delegated decisions to experts.
He was the ultimate example of a politician who undermines political debate and who threw their ideology back at his opponents, something he saw as a denial of reality. A former socialist, he joined the constellation of “independents” and claimed to serve France's interest without ever defining it. At the time, one cartoon depicted him in the process of trying to drive straight ahead at the steering wheel of a car whose wheels were moving in different directions.
Blind to the great emotions that shaped that time, Laval believed that he was rational and was always right. His only mantra was pacifism, and he saw France solely in terms of a physical heritage. Values and principles were subordinate to this material nature of French heritage, and were eliminated on the pretext of pacifism. His choice of collaboration in 1940 can be explained by this.
Mediapart: You write: “The historian can mock the endless dread of a return of sorrow … and worry.” What worries you the most about France in 2024?
R.M.: The lack of trust in democracy and the difficulty of experiencing it in the intended arenas, such as Parliament. I'd prefer it to be more intense at every stage, that it approaches a continuum of public opinion which chooses between the political lines but which also takes part in developing the agenda.
In this respect I'm worried about the capitalistic potential of a pluralist, free press with its own agendas. The richness of democracy is not just different opinions but the fact of being able to highlight different issues. Democracy has limits but it seems to me the only possible future for rational beings, who are seeking the right decisions through the confrontation between interests and convictions.
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- The original French version of this interview can be found here.
English version by Michael Streeter