Nîmes at War, a revision of the author's dissertation at the
University of Virginia, is a worthy addition to the work being done
on Vichy France. With the few reservations outlined below, the
book will be of interest to all advanced students of France during
World War II. In the tradition established by John Sweets, in his
Choices in Vichy France: The French Under Nazi Occupation
(Oxford, 1986), Robert Zaretsky challenges the weighty questions
and broad assertions of established historiography using the
experience of one departement (the Gard) in southern France from
1938 to 1944. More specifically, Zaretsky aspires to "suggest
certain readjustments" to Robert Paxton's religious and political
model of France during World War II as well as to inspire questions
concerning the nature and nuances of resistance and collaboration
(p. 6).
The author's general framework leads to a first
observation, or question rather, regarding the work. Why was the
Gard important in France's experiences during World War II? The
author begins to address this question in the introduction, but
never explains exactly why one should find the Gard worthy of an
entire monograph. Is it because it represents all of France in
some way or because of its status as an anomaly? We never find out
in the text. Some general comparisons to other departments might
have been helpful. This question seems all the more important
considering another author has addressed the Gard in its wartime
context. Zaretsky dismisses the work of Armand Cosson, Nîmes et
le Gard dans la guerre 1939-1945 (Horvath, 1988) as chiefly
narrative and without scholarly apparatus. Cosson is a
departmental correspondent for the Institut d'histoire du temps
présent.
This initial difficulty aside, Zaretsky does make a
case for some revision of Paxton's religious model. In particular,
the author challenges Paxton's assertion that by the early 1900s a
common enemy, socialism, had supplanted divisive religious issues
between Catholics and Protestants. Zaretsky emphasizes that
religious differences still divided the two communities in the Gard
(p. 5). The author enumerates many instances from the late 1930s
to the end of the war when underlying tensions broke out into open
hostility. Most of the flames were fanned by what appears to be an
"old guard" of priests in the church hierarchy. The main spokesman
for this old guard was a certain Bishop Jean Girbeau. His
invective could be read in the press and heard in his sermons
throughout the war years. For example, Girbeau, in the Catholic
journal La Semaine religieuse (October 1941), stated that the
world could be divided into "unbelievers, heretics, and Catholics"
(p. 94). Zaretsky links these and other public statements with the
initial Catholic character of the Vichy regime to make a good case
for a very nervous Protestant population in the Gard. This
population was also reticent to support the regime. One has only
to read the bishops' pronouncements to sense the tensions which
must have been present in mixed Catholic and Protestant
communities.
Zaretsky's first chapter studies Gardois reactions
to the events of the late 1930s with careful attention to the
difficult issues of subsequent years, such as Protestant and
Catholic reactions to outbursts of anti-Semitism (for example,
Kristallnacht) and those on the right wing who asked that France
be rejuvenated or remade in a certain image. Starting in the late
the 1930s allows the reader to trace important trends from their
interwar antecedents until 1945. Zaretsky's attention to these
trends makes it easier to see why the Vichy government and many of
its policies were initially accepted and even revered by some parts
of society. His examples support the view that Vichy was, in many
ways, a continuation of pre-war French politics and not an alien,
political aberration. Protestant and Catholic reaction to
Kristallnacht, the author deftly points out, foreshadow the
reactions of each church to anti-Semitic policies in France during
1942. The Protestant community reacts with loud indignation to
events in Germany and later to the rafles, or roundups of Jews in
1942. On the other hand, Catholics, at least in their public
pronouncements, were much more reserved on both issues.
As far as revising Paxton's analysis of when
Frenchmen stopped supporting Vichy, Zaretsky sets out to prove that
popular disaffection with the regime and with Philippe Pétain was
"more widespread and precocious than suggested by Paxton" (p. 6).
In this endeavor, Zaretsky is less successful than in the realm of
religion. Firstly, he does not tell the reader in the introduction
exactly where his interpretation differs from others who have
treated the question of when Vichy lost its support.
Secondly, as far as chronology is concerned, the
reader finds out later in the text that there are two important
dates in Zaretsky's argument: October/November 1940 and August
1942. The author states: "By November [1940] a watershed had been
reached" and "the seeds of doubt had been planted... as to the
wisdom of Vichy's political program..." (p. 88). The author bases
his argument on public reactions to Vichy's statute against
Freemasonry, Hitler's Montoire meeting with Pétain, and the first
anti-Semitic laws. In each case, the public's response seems to
have been apathetic not reticent. The author himself states that
the statutes against Freemasons and Jews met with very little, if
any reaction. He also makes the statement that the public probably
interpreted the anti-Freemason statutes as "necessitated by the
circumstances" (p. 83) and the anti-Semitic measures as an
"unfortunate but necessary measure." (p. 85). Although the author
certainly does not intend to state that the public believed that
the Jews and Freemasons were a threat to the state and therefore
warranted these measures, his argument seems to suggest this
possibility. The reactions to Montoire as well elicit nothing but
apathy from the public.
One additional point speaks louder to the issue of
Zaretsky's October/November watershed than does his cumbersome
argument. He admits that his source materials for the period
surrounding the turning point are limited. He states that there is
a "paucity" of police reports and an "absence of rapports sur la
morale publique" for October and November (pp. 81 & 85). In
addition, one of his major sources in the press, Le Journal du
Midi, appeared only irregularly throughout the watershed period
(p. 81, n. 77). The lack of sources leads the author to argue
"from silence" that the meeting at Montoire and "the marshal's
subsequent call to France to follow him down the path of
collaboration", was greeted by a "deeply dubious audience in the
Gard" (p. 225). It is difficult to see how anything can be
extrapolated from silence and lack of source materials.
Furthermore, it seems that with the acceptance by default of the
anti-Jewish and anti-Freemason policies, which occurred just before
Montoire, the average Gardois had already begun to be led by
Pétain, although blindly, toward collaboration.
Zaretsky's argument on his second important date,
circa August 1942, also suffers from similar documentation
problems, but is ultimately more assuring. The author argues
convincingly that the Protestant communities of the Gard were most
likely to resist the regime before 1942. With the combined effects
of the "Joan of Arc Affair", when the public and the regime clashed
over how to celebrate a Joan of Arc day in the spring of 1942, and
the first roundups of Jews in August, Protestants, at "both
official and popular levels", began to hide Jews and help them
escape (p. 255). At this point, the Catholic community, although
not yet at official levels, also began to resist. The early summer
of 1942 also witnessed major public demonstrations on 14 July that
directly defied government authority. Finally, a "common point of
resistance" was created by the regime in 1943 with the creation of
the Service du travail obligatoire (STO) (p. 257).
Zaretsky's last endeavor, to inspire questions on
the nature and nuances of resistance and collaboration, meets with
modest success in the case of the former and somewhat less success
in the latter. The author does give the reader a broad view of the
various behaviors exhibited by citizens of the Gard. He details
both moral and physical resistance to the regime. For example, he
uses anonymous letters that criticize government actions and
policies, and he addresses Maquis bombings to support his case.
He is careful to draw distinctions between bands of resistors and
groups of STO evaders without making moral judgments. In some
cases, however, the author's generalizations negatively effect his
otherwise well-nuanced portrait of the average Gardois.
Zaretsky's analysis of collaboration is less
delicately argued. It is clear from some of his language that his
sympathies lie with the resistance. It seems he could have been
somewhat more objective in many of his characterizations. For
example, he describes some collaborators as "mercenaries" without
providing examples of how or if these people personally benefited
from collaborating (p. 197). However, the characterizations he
uses when describing a family that looted farms under the guise of
Maquis activity or his descriptions of those who used the
epuration to settle old scores are much more reserved (p. 237).
Furthermore, his description of the activities of those
collaborators who carried out their tasks to the very end as "akin
to the spasms of a rabid, dying animal" goes beyond what some would
consider quality scholarly discourse (p. 207). Beyond semantics,
research in the archives at Fontainebleau shows that the Légion
des volontaires français contre le bolchevisme, one of the five
major collaborationist groups in France, had a recruiting office in
Nîmes. Zaretsky mentions no Legion activities.
With the exception of the first chapter, which
relies heavily on the press, the author makes impressive use of
primary sources. He combines police and public opinion reports,
day-to-day, departmental, bureaucratic correspondence, Catholic and
Protestant newspapers, and the general press to develop his
interpretation. His occasional comments on their reliability are
informative and important. Despite the impressive use of French
source materials, the author neglects to use German documents. The
German Security Services would have files detailing many of the
incidents described by Zaretsky. A comparison might reveal more
interesting details not reported in French records and further
strengthen Zaretsky's conclusions. German military intelligence
records would be very useful in studying resistance in the Gard and
would indubitably give better facts on numbers killed and wounded
in raids and battles than do the French reports.
The lack of German records and the indelicate nature
of his interpretation of collaboration do not taint Zaretsky's
otherwise useful monograph. Its main importance is that it gives
scholars a chance to see the way in which people react to war and
shows the nuances of behavior during defeat and triumph.
R. Wesley White
University of South Carolina
rwwhite@vm.sc.edu
Comment by Robert Zaretsky:
I wish to thank Professor White for his review; my book would
certainly have been stronger if it had incorporated his
observations concerning German sources. But let me try to respond
to a few of his other comments. First, I agree that my analysis of
popular support is "less successful" than that of the religious
issue. As White notes, this is largely due to the paucity of
archival material. But he seems to amalgamate two different points
that I make concerning arguments based upon silence: one concerns
the public response to Montoire, the other the Protestant response
to Vichy's policies. As for the former, he asserts that my major
source of information was the sputtering Journal du Midi, but it
is, in fact, Le Républicain du Gard (which, unlike Le Journal,
was appearing on a regular basis) which served as my principal
source (furthermore, it was backed up by references to L'Eveil du
Gard). As for the latter point, I attempted to argue that the
Protestant journals' silence on the policies of Vichy, and their
muted response to Pétain, are significant when compared to the
logorrhea of the secular and Catholic press on the same issues.
White telescopes the two discussions--one on pp. 81-82, the other
in my conclusions on p. 255 (and not, as he notes, p. 225). There
I do conclude that the Gardois were "deeply dubious" about the
policy of collaboration symbolized at Montoire. I should have
qualified the warning that I was "arguing from silence" (for I was
actually arguing from the articles in the secular press). The
reviewer has the right to express reservations about my
conclusions, but his claim that "the reactions to Montoire...
elicit nothing but apathy from the public" requires evidence. If
he has documentation, I would like to see it. If not, I maintain
that my reading of the press is closer to the truth. Moreover, in
regard to the issue of silence and its interpretation, he might
wish to return to my examination of the Protestant and Catholic
presses, and reconsider if all cases of silence are the same,
regardless of context. For what it is worth, and as I note in my
book, the local representatives of Vichy were very troubled by this
same silence: clearly, they did not consider it an expression of
apathy.
Second, White states that my book should have
included references to other local studies of public opinion.
Rather than multiplying such references in my work, I instead
decided to refer to the synthetic studies on public opinion by
Pierre Laborie and Jean-Marie Flonneau. I regard this as an
adequate basis for my comparisons, while White presumably
disagrees. But he ought to acknowledge that I do offer such a
basis.
Third, White criticizes the absence of any
discussion concerning the recruiting office for the Legion des
volontaires francais contre le bolchevisme (LVF) in Nîmes. This
is true (the documentation I found amounted to a couple of police
reports of negligible interest), but his contention that I make no
mention of their activity is inaccurate; I direct him to pp. 102,
149-50, and 203. I am grateful for his reference to the holdings
at Fontainebleau, and would be happy to learn what he has read
there.
Fourth, White is troubled by my violation of
"quality scholarly discourse" in regard to the issue of
collaboration. In support, he cites my comparison of the activity
of collaborators in the last months of the war to that of a "rabid,
dying animal". Well, I agree that it is not Michelet, Macaulay,
Febvre or Cobb, but I tried. I would only point out that, in the
spring of 1944, the collaborationist groups were on their last leg
(i.e., dying) and that they were guilty of many, many senseless,
bloody and savage acts (i.e., rabid). This leads to White's
consternation over the "indelicate nature" of my treatment of the
collaboration, and his concern that my sympathies are showing
beneath the robe of historical objectivity. As for his suspicions,
I confess: I do prefer the resisters to the collaborators (in this
regard, I am probably not alone among historians of contemporary
France). But does this mean that I have violated the canons of
historical objectivity? Readers may look at my discussion of
resistance activity after the liberation of the Gard, as well as in
the months leading up to it, and decide themselves.
More generally, this raises the inevitable issue of
the nature of historical objectivity. Very briefly, this notion
can be understood from two perspectives: that of the relationship
between the historian and his/her material, and that between the
historian and his/her readership. As for the former, I did my best
to examine and explain the actions of the collaborators (and
resisters). Concerning the latter, it is true that I did not
succeed in disguising my sympathy for some of the actors. If, in
fact, historical objectivity is simply a narrative technique (see
Robert Connor's brilliant discussion of this issue in his work on
Thucydides), I agree that I fell short.
The matter does not end here. White first states
that my language is "indelicate", and then subsequently declares
that my "interpretation" (italics are mine) is so. I agree that
style and substance cannot be entirely divorced one from the other,
but I also believe that they are not identical. If it is my
language that frustrates White, in particular my description of
some of the miliciens as "mercenary", I would answer that
"mercenary" is a fair appraisal. The Milice was well-fed and
provided for in a time of extreme distress and scarcity, and the
miliciens materially profited from their numerous excursions
against foreign and French Jews. By 1944 there were, of course,
ideological or pathological causes, along with sheer practical
causes (i.e., too late to turn one's coat) for continued membership
in the Milice. Yet mercenary motivations also are clearly
operative. But as far as the "indelicate nature" of my
interpretation of "collaboration" goes, White does not, as far as
I can see, offer any substantive arguments.
One last point: White writes that I "dismiss" the
work of Armand Cosson. I am afraid White is now committing a
linguistic indelicacy. He is quite right that M. Cosson is the
departmental correspondent for the Institut d'histoire du temps
présent (as White may have learned from my book). But he is wrong
that I "dismiss" his work, which is acknowledged and utilized in my
book (as are, with his kind permission, the photos for the book's
cover). I direct the reader's attention to the long note on p.
127, where I discuss this issue. It is there that I point to the
limited time frame of his book (imposed upon him by the publisher,
Horvath) as well as note that M. Cosson by-passes the religious
character of the events, which my work treats as a principal theme.
In conversation, M. Cosson has acknowledged the importance of that
dimension; I only wish White had given it more attention in his
review.
Robert D. Zaretsky
Honors College
University of Houston
rzaretsky@uh.edu
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