Chin - War of Words. Britain, France and Discourses of Empire During The Second World War (2022)

War of Words
War of Words argues that the conflicts that erupted over French colonial
territory between 1940 and 1945 are central to understanding British,
Vichy and Free French policy-making throughout the war. By analys-
ing the rhetoric that surrounded these clashes, Rachel Chin demon-
strates that imperial holdings were valued as more than material and
strategic resources. They were formidable symbols of power, prestige
and national legitimacy. She shows that having and holding imperial
territory was at the core of competing Vichy and Free French claims to
represent the true French nation and that opposing images of Franco-
British cooperation and rivalry were at the heart of these arguments.
The selected case studies show how British–Vichy–Free French rela-
tions evolved throughout the war and demonstrate that the French
colonial empire played a decisive role in these shifts.
Rachel Chin is Postdoctoral Research Associate on an AHRC-funded

research project at the University of Glasgow and a member of the
Scottish Council on Global Affairs.
Published online by Cambridge University Press

War of Words
Britain, France and Discourses of Empire
during the Second World War
Rachel Chin
University of Glasgow

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DOI: 10.1017/9781009180993
© Rachel Chin 2022
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Chin, Rachel, 1987– author.
Title: War of words : Britain, France and discourses of empire during
the Second World War / Rachel Chin, University of Glasgow.
Description: Cambridge ; New York : Cambridge University Press, 2022. |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022004199 | ISBN 9781009181013 (hardback) |
ISBN 9781009180993 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Great Britain – Foreign relations – France. | France – Foreign
relations – Great Britain. | World War, 1939–1945 – Great Britain – Diplomatic
history. | World War, 1939–1945 – France – Diplomatic history. |
Great Britain – Foreign relations – 1936–1945. | France – Foreign
relations – 1914–1940. | France – History – German occupation, 1940–1945. |
BISAC: HISTORY / Europe / Great Britain / General
Classification: LCC D750 .C47 2022 | DDC 327.4104409044–dc23/eng/20220321
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022004199
ISBN 978-1-009-18101-3 Hardback
Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of
URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication
and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain,
accurate or appropriate.

To my parents, Robbin and Joseph, who always had
time to take me to the library

Contents
Acknowledgements page viii

List of Abbreviations x
Introduction 1
1 From the Dunkirk Evacuations to the Franco-German
Armistice: Renegotiating the Franco-British Alliance 19
2 ‘The Real Question at Issue’: British Policy
and the French Fleet 56
3 A Necessary Tragedy? The British Bombardments
of the French Fleet at Mers El-Kébir 76
4 Vichy, the Free French and the Battle for Imperial
Influence at Dakar in September 1940 104
5 Promises of Independence: Operation Exporter
and the Struggle for the Levant 136
6 Operation Torch: American Influence
and the Battle for French North Africa 172
7 Independence on French Terms: The 1943 Lebanese
Parliamentary Crisis 204
8 Holding On to Empire: The French Bombardment
of Damascus, May 1945 230
Conclusion 260
Bibliography 269
Index 284
vii

Acknowledgements
I thought that writing acknowledgements would be one of the easier

parts of writing a book. As it turns out, I was wrong. So many people
have helped this book along its way, and each of their contributions has
been unique. It is impossible to convey my thanks sufficiently with these
few words, but I hope that they can make a start.
This book was only possible thanks to my PhD supervisors Martin
Thomas and Richard Toye, who kindly took a chance on me and wel-
comed me onto their Rhetorics of Empire project. Their support and
advice have been invaluable. Likewise, I am grateful to the Leverhulme
Trust and the University of Exeter for funding this research. The Royal
Historical Society and the Economic History Society provided generous
additional funding for research trips to Paris and Cambridge.
Other friends and colleagues have provided advice that has been
essential to shaping and polishing this book. At the University of Exeter,
Ryan Patterson and Laure Humbert helped me to think about my ideas
and afforded me their hospitality over many cups of coffee and glasses of
wine. At the University of Glasgow, Peter Jackson has been an endless
source of support and helpful critique. My thanks to him for remind-
ing me that complex ideas can and should be expressed simply. Other
colleagues, Rogelia Pastor-Castro, Charlotte Faucher, Damien Van
Puyvelde and Sarah Dunstan, have provided advice, support and friend-
ship during my academic career, for which I am supremely grateful.
Michael Watson and Emily Plater at Cambridge University Press have
been both supportive and kind throughout the review and editorial pro-
cess. I am grateful to the anonymous reviewers whose feedback gave me
confidence in the book and fuelled some valuable improvements to the
manuscript.
The support that I have had from friends and family has been equally
important in this endeavour. Debbie, my housemate of nearly five
years, allowed me to bend her ear with historical ramblings over bot-
tles of mulled wine drunk much too early in the season. Paula, my dear
viii
https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.001 Published online by Cambridge University Press

Acknowledgements ix
friend and fellow bibliophile, has been an endless and unflinching source
of encouragement and espresso martinis. My family has put up with my
annoying habit of visiting archives in the middle of family holidays. Peter
has reminded me that more occasions should be celebrated with cham-
pagne. Finally, a short ode to Max the cat, whose demands for attention
have fuelled many happy research interludes.

Abbreviations
BEF British Expeditionary Force

CCS Combined Chiefs of Staff
CFLN Comité Français de Libération Nationale (French
Committee of National Liberation)
CIGS Chief of the Imperial General Staff
CNF Comité National Français (French National Committee)
CNR Conseil National de la Résistance (National Council of
the Resistance)
COMAC Commission d’Action Militaire (Military Action
Committee)
COS Chiefs of Staff
FFI Forces Françaises de l’Intérieur (French Forces of the
Interior)
IR International Relations
JPS Joint Planning Staff
JPSC Joint Planning Subcommittee
LON League of Nations
MEC Middle East Command
MO Mass Observation
MOI Ministry of Information
MRP Mouvement Républicain Populaire (French Christian
Democrat Party)
OSS Office of Strategic Services
PCF Parti Communiste Français (French Communist Party)
PMC Permanent Mandates Commission
RAF Royal Air Force
SOE Special Operations Executive

Introduction
On 22 June 1940, Marshal Philippe Pétain’s newly constituted French

government signed an armistice with Hitler’s Germany. At the same
time, a relatively unknown brigadier general named Charles André
Joseph Marie de Gaulle fled to London. De Gaulle became the leader of
the Free French movement, which resolved to continue fighting against
the Axis powers in the name of France. It pursued this battle symboli-
cally and, eventually, militarily. Three decades later, British Members
of Parliament would historicise this moment, and the man at its cen-
tre. British Prime Minister Edward Heath would describe de Gaulle’s
‘unconquerable determination to restore France’ as ‘one of the few sure
and certain things’ in 1940. Liberal Party Leader Jeremy Thorpe would
recount a story in which Britain’s wartime Prime Minister Winston
Churchill supposedly greeted de Gaulle with the prophetic words, ‘here
comes the Constable of France’.1 In these commemorations, de Gaulle
was the undisputed guardian of French honour and the personification
of the Franco-British alliance. However, in 1940, and throughout the
Second World War, neither de Gaulle’s position nor the status of the
Franco-British relationship was ever this straightforward.
The launch of the Free French movement in London substantially
altered the Franco-British relationship.2 It pitted one representative of
France and French interests against another. On the one side, Britain
and the Free French offered guarantees of Allied victory and the resto-
ration of France to its ‘rightful’ place on the world stage. On the other
side, Pétain’s Vichy government promised French renewal, both moral
and material, in a Europe led by Germany. In these arguments over the
1 Hansard HC Deb vol. 806 col. 211, 214 (10 November 1970) https://hansard.parliament
.uk /commons/1970 -11-10/debates/d6157654 -c7db- 4ee2-8a85 - 43a74d416295/
GeneralDeGaulle(Tributes).
2 Because the Vichy government and the Free French claimed to represent France
after the Franco-German armistice, the term ‘Franco-British relationship’ should be
understood as several relationships.

2 Introduction
future of France, each side worked hard to demonstrate the legitimacy

of its claims. The French Empire became the main arena in which these
claims were fought.
Imperial holdings were central to Vichy and Free French assertions of
power, legitimacy and sovereignty. De Gaulle’s authority over Afrique
équatoriale française (French Equatorial Africa [AEF]), consolidated in
the ‘three glorious days’ of August 1940, gave his cause greater material
and moral credibility. It was from there that he grandly promised British
Prime Minister Winston Churchill the loyalty of fourteen million French
citizens and toasted the health and longevity of the Franco-British
alliance.3 However, the Vichy government retained control over strate-
gically important territories, including French North and West Africa,
French Indochina and the Middle East Levantine Mandates of Syria and
Lebanon. Vichy would not hesitate to defend its imperial possessions
when faced with British and Free French incursions.
As Pétain and de Gaulle fought to determine who spoke for France
and its empire, they also argued over how the Franco-British relationship
fitted into this equation. The legitimacy of the Free French movement
was rooted in the idea of Franco-British solidarity. By contrast, the Vichy
government drew on deeply ingrained historic images of Franco-British
rivalry in order to shore up its own credibility and condemn British and
Free French threats to its imperial sovereignty.
This book tracks the evolution of the Franco-British relationship
between 1940 and 1945. It does this not by counting military victo-
ries or losses, but by examining the rhetoric that British, Vichy and
Free French actors deployed to legitimise their roles inside or outside of
the conflict. The French colonial empire played a decisive role in these
debates and in the wider Franco-British relationship. It was the location
where British, Vichy and Free French interests intersected, militarily
and rhetorically.
The conflicts that erupted over French colonial territory between
1940 and 1945 are central to understanding British, Vichy and Free
French policy-making throughout the war. More importantly, the rhet-
oric that was used to justify or condemn policies of imperial conflict
was an integral part of the policy-making process. British, Vichy and
Free French policy-makers deployed rhetoric as a strategic policy-
making tool in its own right. Imperial considerations shaped French and
3 Eric Jennings rightly points out de Gaulle’s penchant for exaggeration. AEF and
mandated Cameroon counted 8,881 ‘Europeans’ and 6,124,391 Africans. Eric
T. Jennings, Free French Africa in World War II: The African Resistance (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 2015), 45.

Methodology 3
British narratives of the conflict. Having and holding imperial territory

was central to Vichy and Free French claims of authority. Focussing
on the rhetoric of imperial clashes places these political actors within a
wider setting that includes symbolic understandings of nation, citizen-
ship, national self-image and imperialism. It demonstrates that imperial
holdings were valued as more than material and strategic resources.
They were formidable symbols of power, prestige and national legiti-
macy. Their worth transcended the narrow spheres of high politics and
military strategy.
Methodology
The focus of this study is the role of the rhetoric of Franco-British
relations. This topic remains under-explored in the history of relations
between France and Britain and in particular in the history of the Brit-
ish and French Empires. This unique rhetorical approach, which has
not yet been deployed, reveals dynamics within and around the policy-
making process that conventional approaches and perspectives do not. It
demonstrates that the process of formulating and implementing official
policies was far more complicated than a weighing of military strategies
against available resources. And it delivers new insights into the complex
nature of Franco-British relations during the Second World War.
There remains a strong tendency in scholarship to view Franco-British
relations after the Armistice as unremittingly hostile.4 Eleanor Gates, for
instance, has described the events that followed the armistice as ‘divorce
on a grand scale’.5 Another consequence of viewing Franco-British
relations through a binary lens of either cooperation or rivalry is that
June 1940 became the moment that British policy-makers abandoned
the Entente in favour of a ‘special relationship’ with the United States.6
4 See, for instance, Michael Dockrill, British Establishment Perspectives on France,

1936–1940 (Basingstoke, 1999). Eleanor Gates, End of the Affair: The Collapse of the
Franco-British Alliance, 1939–1940 (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press,
1981). Warren Tute, The Reluctant Enemies: The Story of the Last War between Britain
and France 1940–1942 (London: Collins, 1990). Nicholas Atkin, The Forgotten French:
Exiles in the British Isles 1940–1944 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003).
Simon Berthon, Allies at War: Churchill v Roosevelt v De Gaulle (London: Thistle
Publishing, 2013). Colin Smith, England’s Last War against France: Fighting Vichy
1940–1942 (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2009).
5 Gates, End of the Affair, xiv.
6 See, for instance, David Reynolds, ‘1940: Fulcrum of the Twentieth Century?’,
International Affairs, 66, 2 (April 1990). Philip Bell, ‘Entente Broken and Renewed:
Britain and France, 1940–1945’, in Anglo-French Relations in the Twentieth Century:
Rivalry and Cooperation, eds. Alan Sharp and Glyn Stone (London: Routledge,
2000): 223–243.

4 Introduction
These accounts treat policy-making primarily as a realist practice – a

weighing up of material costs and benefits. The problem with this per-
spective is two-fold. First, it narrows Franco-British relations to notions
of inherent rivalry. Second, it reduces the practice of policy-making to
the single-minded pursuit of material assets and military victories. The
result is interpretations that do not pay sufficient attention to the sym-
bolic value of wartime operations. This makes it impossible to appreciate
the complex range of factors, tangible and intangible, that impacted the
policy-making process.
Beginning in the 1990s, some historians began to deploy a more
nuanced approach to understand French and British wartime experi-
ences. One significant outcome of this trend was a reassessment of
Franco-British relations during the interwar period, leading up to France’s
withdrawal from the conflict. Talbot Imlay, for instance, has argued for
a broader multinational and multifactorial perspective. Scholars should
ask how well both Britain and France met the test of war and envisaged
the unfolding conflict.7 At the same time, imperial historians have wid-
ened geographical understandings of the conflict and challenged narrower
metropolitan views.8 Martin Thomas, Richard Toye and Aviel Roshwald
have reassessed France and Britain’s wartime relationship from an impe-
rial perspective. Eric Jennings and Julian Jackson have emphasised the
importance of empire in supporting the Free French movement. Other
scholars have reconsidered how France and Britain experienced war,
7 Talbot Imlay, Facing the Second World War: Strategy, Politics and Economics in Britain
and France 1938–1940 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 5. See also, Stanley
Hoffman, Decline or Renewal? France since the 1930s (New York: The Viking Press,
1974). Julian Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2003), Chapter 5. Martin Thomas, Britain, France and Appeasement: Anglo-
French Relations in the Popular Front Era (London: Berg, 1997). Peter Jackson, France
and the Nazi Menace: Intelligence and Policy Making 1933–1939 (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2000).
8 See, for instance, Ashley Jackson, The British Empire and the Second World War
(London: Hambledon Continuum, 2006). Martin Thomas, The French Empire at War:
1940–45 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998). Eric T. Jennings, Vichy
in the Tropics: Pétain’s National Revolution in Madagascar, Guadeloupe, and Indochina,
1940–1944 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2001). Eric T. Jennings, Free
French Africa in World War II: The African Resistance (New York: Cambridge University
Press, 2015). Martin Thomas and Richard Toye, Arguing about Empire: Imperial
Rhetoric in Britain and France, 1882–1956 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017),
Chapters 5–6. Martin Thomas, Fight or Flight: Britain, France and their Roads from
Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), Chapter 2. Aviel Roshwald, Estranged
Bedfellows: Britain and France in the Middle East during the Second World War (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1990). Frederick Cooper, Citizenship between Empire
and Nation: Remaking France and French Africa 1945–1960 (Princeton: Princeton

Methodology 5
how those experiences have been remembered and how this past has
been integrated into more contemporary policy-making.9 This has led
to a growing interest in understanding how individuals and groups build
their legitimacy, and therefore their power and influence, using a combi-
nation of legal, rhetorical and material techniques.10
In this book, the evolution of the Franco-British wartime relationship
will be assessed through a series of imperial ‘crisis points’. When com-
bined with the rhetorical methodology that is central to this work, these
case studies illustrate the importance of empire as a material and symbolic
asset. Episodes include the British bombardment of the French fleet at
Mers el-Kébir (1940), British and Free French clashes with Vichy forces
at Dakar (1940), British-Free French operations to capture Syria and
Lebanon (1941), the British-American ‘Torch’ invasions of North Africa
(1942) and British-Free French tensions in the Levant in 1943 and 1945.
This book asks how British and Free French decision-makers prepared
to defend controversial policies of imperial confrontation. And it argues
that rhetoric, broadly defined as the persuasive language of policy-making,
played a central role in the conception, implementation and justification of
9 Stanley Hoffmann, ‘The Trauma of 1940: A Disaster and Its Traces’, in The French
Defeat of 1940: Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt (Providence, RI: Berghahn Books,
1998), 354–371. Olivier Wierviorka, La Mémoire Désunie: Le Souvenir Politique des
Années Sombres, de la Libération à nos Jours (Paris: Le Seuil, 2010). Robert Frank,
‘The Second World War through French and British Eyes’, in Britain and France in
Two World Wars: Truth, Myth and Memory, eds. Robert Tombs and Emile Chabal
(London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 179–191. R. Gerald Hughes, The Postwar Legacy of
Appeasement: British Foreign Policy Since 1945 (London: Bloomsbury, 2014). Hugo
Frey, ‘Rebuilding France: Gaullist Historiography, the Rise-Fall Myth and French
Identity, 1945–58’, in Writing National Histories: Western Europe since 1800, eds. Stefan
Berger, Mark Donovan and Kevin Passmore (London: Routledge, 1999), 205–216.
Jon Cowans, ‘Visions of the Postwar: The Politics of Memory and Expectation in
1940s France’, History and Memory 10, no. 2 (1998): 68–101. Richard Toye, ‘The
Churchill Syndrome: Reputational Entrepreneurship and the Rhetoric of Foreign
Policy since 1945’, British Journal of Politics and International Relations 10, no. 3
(2008): 364–378.
10 On constructing the legitimacy of the Free French, see Julian Jackson, A Certain
Idea of France: The Life of Charles de Gaulle (London: Penguin, 2019), Chapter 8
‘Inventing Gaullism’. Jay Winter and Antoine Prost, René Cassin and Human Rights:
From the Great War to the Universal Declaration (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2013). On Vichy legitimacy, see Yves Durand, ‘Collaboration French-Style:
A European Perspective’, in France at War: Vichy France and the Historians, eds.
Leonard V. Smith, Laura Lee Downes, Sarah Fishman, Robert Zaretsky and Ioannis
Sinanoglou (Oxford: Berg, 2000), 61–76. Peter Jackson and Simon Kitson, ‘The
Paradoxes of Vichy Foreign Policy, 1940–1942’, in Hitler and His Allies in World War
II, ed. Jonathan R. Adelman (London: Routledge, 2007), 79–115. Simon Kitson,
The Hunt for Nazi Spies: Fighting Espionage in Vichy France (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 2008). For a reassessment of the impact of Churchill’s wartime rheto-
ric, see Richard Toye, The Roar of the Lion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014).

6 Introduction
these policies. In other words, it is impossible to truly understand France

and Britain’s wartime relationship without examining how policy deci-
sions and their outcomes were being defended, condemned, debated and
avoided in public spaces.
Only by viewing Franco-British relations through a rhetorical and
imperial lens is it possible to fully grasp the complexities of this relation-
ship. Britain, Vichy and Free France each used rhetoric to persuade local
and global audiences that its position within the conflict was just, moral
and would be ultimately victorious. The precise words and images that
they used to do this offered up distinct notions of what it meant to be
French and how war could and should be fought.
Using rhetoric as an analytical tool to assess Franco-British relations
has two fundamental benefits. First, rhetorical analyses deliver a more
nuanced understanding of the factors that drove Franco-British wartime
policies. Second, this approach shows that policy-makers’ perceptions of
public opinion also influenced how policies were conceived and presented.
In the past, rhetorical approaches have been criticised for their lack of
specificity. Martin Thomas and Richard Toye have pointed out a tendency,
particularly in social histories, to take a much broader view towards lin-
guistic approaches. Concepts such as rhetoric and discourse get subsumed
into ‘a somewhat amorphous “imperial discourse”’.11 Analysing British,
Vichy and Free French rhetoric during moments of imperial tension pro-
vides a fuller picture of the dynamics of these rivalries and the role that
persuasive language played in attempting to prop up imperial, and by
extension global power, in a wartime and post-war environment.12
Rhetoric also frequently gets lumped in with scholarship on Second
World War propaganda, of which there is a great deal.13 This approach
tends to present propaganda as at best partially untrue and at worst a series
of patent lies – a one-way stream of information used by governments to
make a group of people think or act in a particular way. Categorising all
11 Thomas and Toye, Arguing about Empire, 7.

12 Ibid., 6–7.
13 See, for instance, Roger Austin, ‘Propaganda and Public Opinion in Vichy France:
The Department of Hérault, 1940–44’, European Studies Review 13 (1983), 455–
482. Tim Brooks, British Propaganda to France, 1940–1944: Machinery, Method and
Message (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2007). Kay Chadwick, ‘Our
Enemy’s Enemy: Selling Britain to Occupied France on the BBC French Service’,
Media History 21, no. 4 (2015): 426–442. Hélène Eck, La Guerre des ondes. Histoire
des radios de langues françaises pendant la Deuxième Guerre mondiale (Paris: Armand
Colin, 1985). Michael Stenton, Radio London and Resistance in Occupied Europe:
British Political Warfare 1939–1943 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000). Robert
J. Young, Marketing Marianne: French Propaganda in America, 1900–1940 (New
Brunswick: Rutgers University Press: 2003).

Methodology 7
wartime discourse under the umbrella of propaganda ignores the value

of rhetoric as a recognised policy-making tool. This book defines rhetoric
more narrowly, as the official responses that emerged from British, Vichy
and Free French decision-making establishments during episodes of
imperial tension. The result is a more nuanced understanding of French
and British policy-making. Throughout the book, rhetoric and discourse
will be treated as synonyms using this definition.
Rhetoric is defined here not only as official public speech but also as a
‘social phenomenon’.14 The term ‘official’ refers to the statements, press
releases and speeches that were delivered by acting representatives of
the British and Vichy governments as well as Charles de Gaulle’s Free
French movement. This is not to say that the Free French movement
was, in practice, a legal French government. It simply illustrates that
both Vichy and the Free French conveyed itself as the legitimate or offi-
cial representative of France and French interests.15 Defining rhetoric
in this way allows us to consider how high-level decision-makers viewed
their own world (including their perceptions of public opinion) and how
rhetoric as a dynamic concept was crucial in the shaping and changing of
public and official mindsets. It also addresses one of the primary weak-
nesses of broader, less well-defined approaches to discourse. Namely,
that they ignore the structures of power and authority that are present in
any kind of communication. These structures contribute substantially to
the power or persuasiveness found in language by, for instance, giving
one individual or group’s words more validity than another.
Taken this way, rhetoric becomes a legitimate power building tool in its
own right. Pierre Bourdieu reminds us that power often manifests itself in
symbolic form, rather than through constant and ‘overt physical force’.16
British and Free French officials built their legitimacy and exercised their
authority using rhetoric. Images of Franco-British cooperation were a
way to discredit the Vichy government and legitimise the Free French
movement. Competing British, Free French and Vichy discourses show-
cased each actor’s divergent expectations surrounding the outcome of
the war and what the post-war world would look like. Rhetorical analyses
show that foreign policy was not made in a vacuum. Its conceptualisation,
implementation and justification were products of debates that spanned
policy-making and public spheres. The language used to justify these
14 Richard Toye, Rhetoric: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2013), 4.
15 For the legal arguments and organisational structures used to assert the authority of
the Free French, see Winter and Prost, René Cassin, Chapter 6.
16 Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power, 23.

8 Introduction
policies shows how normative concepts such as morality, ethics, national

honour and historical memory shaped the policy-making process.
The process of formulating official policies was far more complicated
than a weighing of military strategies against available resources. In Brit-
ain, for example, policy discussions took place within the War Cabinet.
But the policy-making circle could also expand to include members of
the Whitehall bureaucracy and the armed forces who contributed to the
discussions and brought professional opinions to the process. Policy-
makers not only consulted experts on the ground, they also weighed
likely public responses to the policy choices under review. These con-
siderations were integrated into their policy justifications. Decision-
makers anticipated how each operation was likely to affect the standing
of the government (and, often, of the minister concerned) in the eyes
of key domestic and foreign interest groups. Pure material capabilities
played an important role in determining whether an operation was actu-
ally feasible. But even if manpower and weaponry were readily available,
intangible factors, such as a likely public backlash in response to unnec-
essary civilian deaths, still had a real impact on the final policy decision.
Studying how official British, Vichy and Free French rhetoric was
conceived and communicated provides insights into this relationship
between policy-making and public opinion, or what policy-makers
believed to be public opinion.17 The link between policy-making and
the public sphere is complex, changeable and difficult to measure.
Despite these challenges, the concept of wartime public opinion has
featured heavily in histories of the Second World War. Beginning in the
1980s, historical studies debunked myths that equated British public
opinion with the ‘Dunkirk Spirit’ mentality. Historians have challenged
consensus-based myths like this because they lump all of the war years
together and fail to recognise shifts in both behaviour and popular
opinion between 1939 and 1945.18 Regional studies also point to a less
17 For the challenges of measuring public opinion and its impact on policy-making, see
Daniel Hucker, ‘International History and the Study of Public Opinion: Towards
Methodological Clarity’, The International History Review 34, no. 4 (2012): 775–794.
18 See, for instance, Agnus Calder, The Myth of the Blitz (London: Pimlico, 1991).
David Reynolds, Warren F. Kimball and A. O. Chubarian, eds., Allies at War: The
Soviet, American, and British Experience, 1949–1945 (London: Macmillan, 1994),
250. Richard Toye, The Roar of the Lion: The Untold Story of Churchill’s World War
II Speeches (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). Alan Allport, Britain at Bay:
The Epic Story of the Second World War: 1938–1941 (London: Profile Books, 2020).
See also, for issues of misreporting due to feelings of guilt, M. A. Doherty, Nazi
Wireless Propaganda: Lord Haw-Haw and British Public Opinion in the Second World
War (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press Ltd., 2000), 119–120.

Methodology 9
homogenous reaction to the war across Britain. David Thoms argues

that the Home Office failed to establish criteria to define and measure
morale. Far from, the ‘spirit of the blitz’, German air raids on Plymouth
between November 1940 and April 1941 ‘appear to have brought the
city close to the breaking point’.19
On the French side, scholars have mobilised a variety of Vichy, Free
French and British sources to measure public opinion in France during
the occupation.20 Prefects’ reports have shed light on French opinion
in the occupied and unoccupied zones. They have demonstrated that
by the autumn of 1940, public opinion across France was both anti-
German and pro-British.21 The issue of collaboration has also played
an important role in understanding public attitudes and actions during
this period. Robert Paxton’s Vichy France Old Guard and New Order
has been followed by studies that seek to explore in more nuance how
individuals and policy-makers made choices in Vichy and occupied
France.22
19 David Thoms, ‘The Blitz, Civilian Morale and Regionalism, 1940–1942’, in War
Culture: Social Change and Changing Experience in World War Two, eds. Pat Kirkham
and David Thoms (London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1995), 4, 6.
20 See, for instance, Roger Austin, ‘Propaganda and Public Opinion in Vichy France:
The Department of Hérault, 1940–44’, European Studies Review 13 (1983), 455–482.
Pierre Laborie, L’Opinion Française Sous Vichy (Paris: Éditions de Seuil, 1990). Julian
Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001),
Chapters 11 and 12. Kay Chadwick, ‘Radio Propaganda and Public Opinion under
Endgame Vichy: The Impact of Philippe Henriot’, French History 25, no. 2 (2011):
232–252.
21 Jackson, The Dark Years, 274. Pierre Laborie, Résistants Vichyssois et Autres: L’Évolution
de L’Opinion et des Comportements dans le Lot de 1939 a 1944 (Paris: Editions du
C.N.R.S., 1980).
22 See, for instance, Philippe Burrin, Living with Defeat: France under the German
Occupation, 1940–1944 (New York: Hodder Education, 1997). Yves Durand,
‘Collaboration French-Style: A European Perspective’, in France at War: Vichy and the
Historians, eds. Sarah Fishman, Ioannis Sinanoglou, and Laura L. Downs (Oxford:
Berg, 2000), 63. John Hellman, ‘Communitarians, Non-Conformists, and the Search
for a “New Man” in Vichy France’, in France at War: Vichy and the Historians, eds.
Sarah Fishman, Ioannis Sinanoglou, and Laura L. Downs (Oxford: Berg, 2000), 94.
Francine Muel-Dreyfus, Vichy and the Eternal Feminine: A Contribution to a Political
Sociology of Gender, trans. Kathleen A. Johnson (London: Duke University Press,
2001). Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order 1940–1944 (New
York: Columbia University Press, 1972). Ronald Rosbottom, When Paris Went Dark:
The City of Light Under German Occupation, 1940–1944 (London: John Murray, 2014).
John F. Sweets, Choices in Vichy France: The French under Nazi Occupation (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1986). Laborie, L’Opinion Française, 328. See also Philip
Nord, France’s New Deal : From the Thirties to the Postwar Era (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 2010) for administrative continuity between the interwar and post-
war years.

10 Introduction
It is widely recognised that public opinion, although notoriously dif-

ficult to define and measure, does exert influence on the policy-making
process.23 Political scientists such as Ralph Negrine have argued that
public opinion should be understood as a combination of individual
experiences and the social frameworks in which those experiences took
place. Individuals tend to interpret issues in a way that ‘draws on past,
personal, and other experiences’.24 Trying to understand and influence
public opinion, then, means that policy-makers have to consider what
they think will appeal to their target audience. They have to acknowledge
that not all topics will be of equal interest.25 Public interest in a topic
can fluctuate over time, becoming both stronger and weaker. Policy-
makers must be aware of these shifts.26 This book integrates a range of
source materials in order to understand how high-level British, Vichy
and Free French decision-makers were attempting to influence and were
being influenced by public opinion. Together, they paint a picture of
what decision-makers believed public opinion to be and how those beliefs
shaped the policy-making process.
French and British wartime policy was made with at least one eye on
the press and public. In other words, public opinion mattered to high-
level decision-makers on both sides of the Channel. More importantly,
public opinion or decision-makers’ perceptions of public opinion had a
tangible impact on final policy and policy justifications. The press was a
platform for official British, Free French and Vichy rhetoric. But it was
also viewed as a barometer for public opinion, which is why press analy-
ses play such an important role in this book.27 British papers through-
out the war printed official policy explanations, but they also critiqued
British, Vichy and Free French wartime policies. Although censorship
made the Vichy press largely a government mouthpiece, Vichy officials
would continue to monitor the British press to gain clues about British
23 Hucker, ‘International History’, 779.

24 Ralph Negrine, The Communication of Politics (London: SAGE Publications, 1996),
128. See also G. Lang and K. Lang, The Battle for Public Opinion: The President, the
Press, and the Polls during Watergate (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983).
R. Neuman, M. Just and A. Crigler, Common Knowledge (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1992).
25 Pierre Laborie, ‘1940–1944: Double Think in France’, in France at War: Vichy and the
Historians, eds. Sarah Fishman, Ioannis Sinanoglou and Laura L. Downs (Oxford:
Berg, 2000), 183. Soroka, ‘Media, Public Opinion, and Foreign Policy’, 29.
26 Bryan D. Jones, Reconceiving Decision-Making in Democratic Politics: Attention, Choice,
and Public Policy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 125.
27 There is consensus that by the interwar period, newspapers were the most common
way of sourcing national and international news and thus were integral in ‘opinion
formation’. Hucker, ‘International History’, 781.

Methodology 11
policy and wider public sentiment. Policy-makers wanted to be able to

access and assess public opinion as part of the policy-making process.
Yet, public opinion is not homogenous. The ‘public’ is made up of many
more fragmented ‘publics’ with a range of opinions.28 What mattered
was what policy-makers believed public opinion was, and how they
thought it would impact the success of their policies. This also meant
that some opinions carried more weight than others. As will become clear
throughout this book, the public opinion of indigenous colonial popula-
tions rarely factored into the mindsets of decision-makers during this
period. British and French policy-makers monitored public opinion in
the colonies using their imperial intelligence services, especially in regard
to anti-imperial nationalist groups.29 However, during the operations in
question, indigenous colonial public opinion was only a significant factor
in the Levant (Chapters 5, 7 and 8).
British policy-makers relied on the press as a way to measure and influ-
ence (through official statements) public opinion. Although a range of
new polling techniques were also being developed at the time, newspa-
pers remained the preferred source for information gathering.30 Attempts
by organisations such as Mass Observation (MO), whose work was car-
ried out under the auspices of the Ministry of Information (MOI), repre-
sented only a part of society. MO diarists were largely ‘middle class, well
read and articulate’ as well as left-of-centre politically.31 Policy-making
documents such as memoranda and War Cabinet minutes as well as
edited texts of broadcasts and press reports showed that British officials
gathered their views on public opinion from a range of sources, both offi-
cial and personal. The Ministry of Information analysed the local press
and public opinion and assembled their findings in Home Intelligence
Reports. Assessments of public opinion were also a regular feature in
British War Cabinet meetings, which included speculations about the
likelihood of broad support for a particular policy.
In France, a series of public bodies was tasked with tracking and mea-
suring public opinion. Their creation, in the early months of the war,
28 Daniel Hucker, Public Opinion and the End of Appeasement in Britain and France
(Surrey: Ashgate Publishing Ltd., 2011), 1.
29 For research on imperial intelligence gathering see, for instance, Martin Thomas,
‘French Intelligence Gathering in the Syrian Mandate, 1920–40’, Middle Eastern
Studies 38, no. 1 (2002): 1–32. Martin Thomas, ‘The Gendarmerie, Information
Collection, and Colonial Violence in French North Africa between the Wars’,
Historical Reflections 36, no. 2 (2010), 76–96.
30 Hucker, Public Opinion, 20.
31 Sandra Koa Wing, ed., Mass Observation: Britain in the Second World War (London:
The Folio Society, 2007), xiv.

12 Introduction
showed that policy-makers took public sentiment seriously in theory,

if not always in practice. On 29 July 1939, French Premier Édouard
Daladier created the Commissariat Général à l’Information (French
General Commissariat of Information) to carry out censorship and dis-
tribute information in France, the French Empire and further afield.
Led by author, playwright and diplomat Jean Giraudoux, the Commis-
sariat comprised two information agencies, one aimed at metropolitan
and imperial France and the other the Service d’Information à l’Étranger
(Foreign Information Service), at the rest of the world. In March 1940,
Paul Reynaud succeeded Daladier as Premier. The Commissariat was
restructured in April and became the Ministère de l’Information (Ministry
of Information).32 The Ministry played a primary role in formulating
public speeches and issuing press publications on the Franco-British
position in the war. After the conclusion of the Franco-German armistice,
in the unoccupied zone, Vichy officials from the intelligence section of
the French police (Renseignements Généraux) measured local opinion by
eavesdropping. The Service du Contrôle Technique gleaned its knowledge
by intercepting letters and telephone calls.33 Vichy’s propaganda minis-
try, The Secrétariat Général à l’Information, oversaw radio, cinema and
press propaganda. Prefects’ reports, which were sent to Vichy, painted a
picture of regional opinion in both zones.
After the armistice, British and Vichy officials carried on analysing each
other’s press and public opinion. Foreign press commentary was con-
veyed by resident diplomatic officials to the Foreign Office in London.
British officials also tried to influence French opinion through radio pro-
gramming such as the BBC’s French service. In August 1941, the Political
Warfare Executive took on the responsibility of distributing British mes-
sages to metropolitan France and the French Empire. The French Minis-
try of Foreign Affairs received reports on British media content from their
overseas legations including Portugal and Ireland.34 After its creation on
10 December 1940, the Office Français d’Information was the press agency
responsible for distributing official information from the Vichy govern-
ment. In addition, intelligence summaries and political correspondence
32 Robert J. Young, Marketing Marianne: French Propaganda in America, 1900–1940

(New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2003), 141–142.
33 Roger Austin, ‘Propaganda and Public Opinion in Vichy France: The Department
of Hérault, 1940–44’, European Studies Review 13 (1983), 456. For more on this ser-
vice, see Roger Austin, ‘Surveillance and Intelligence under the Vichy Regime: The
Service du Contrôle Technique, 1939–45’, Intelligence and National Security 1, no. 1
(1986): 123–137.
34 The bulk of French analyses of the foreign press can be found at the MAE in 10GMII,
Sub-Series Z and 9GMII, Sub-Series Y.

Book Structure 13
from French and British Foreign Office files summarised views of metro-
politan and foreign reactions to particular high-profile events.
The language that decision-makers used to describe the Franco-
British relationship to the public and to justify policies that impacted this
relationship was highly strategic. Before the Franco-German armistice,
rhetoric stressed the unshakable bond of the Franco-British alliance.
After the Franco-German armistice, it illustrated the divergence of
Vichy French and British-Free French expectations for German victory
or defeat. The imperial conflicts that followed the armistice, and the
ways in which they were fought, both rhetorically and materially, were
outcomes of this rupture. The rhetoric that policy-makers employed to
justify or condemn these conflicts mobilised a combination of cultural,
historical and emotive imagery. British rhetoric emphasised the inevita-
bility of an Allied victory. It stressed the moral and ethical character of
the policies it was using to reach this goal. A key outcome of this victory
would be the restoration of France. Images of Britain and Free France as
saviours of the metropole became justifications for incursions into Vichy
French colonial territory. Vichy French rhetoric also drew on recognised
images of Frenchness and Franco-British rivalry to combat British-Free
French challenges to its sovereignty. Cultural symbols such as Joan of
Arc were used to represent Vichy France as the ‘true’ France and Britain
as France’s historic enemy and imperial rival.
The relationships that developed between British, Vichy and Free
French actors were subtle balancing acts. They were constantly being
renegotiated, materially and rhetorically. The way in which France and
Britain’s wartime relationship was constructed rhetorically has a great
deal to say not only about the expectations that informed each actor’s
policies but also about the more deeply rooted cultural and social atti-
tudes that underpinned this process. French and British policies were
a product of material capabilities. But they were also premised on less
tangible factors such as public opinion and moral and ethical norms.
They were influenced by external pressures, which included the demands
of powerful neutral actors such as the United States. In this context,
decision-makers were fighting to win approval for their respective war-
time visions and the policies that would be used to achieve those visions.
Rhetoric played a central role in this process.
Book Structure
This book is structured around eight chapters that examine seven criti-
cal points in the Franco-British relationship between 1940 and 1945.
The selected case studies show how British-Vichy-Free French relations

14 Introduction
evolved throughout the war, and they demonstrate that the French
colonial empire played a decisive role in these shifts. Case studies aim
to involve British, Vichy and Free French actors in order to illustrate
the significance of competing sources of Frenchness and competing
narratives of Franco-British rivalry and cooperation. They begin in
Chapter 1 with the collapse of French and British military resistance
and the conclusion of the Franco-German armistice. They conclude
with de Gaulle’s triumphant return to Paris and his early attempts to
formulate France’s post-war imperial policy. The intervening chapters
explore the British bombardment of the French fleet at Mers el-Kébir
(July 1940), Free French attempts to take Dakar from Vichy forces
(September 1940), Allied landings in North Africa during Operation
Torch (November 1942) and the British-Free French operations in the
Levant states in 1941 and subsequently in 1943 and 1945. These crisis
points illustrate the complexity of British, Free French and Vichy rela-
tionships while also demonstrating how the Franco-British relationship
shifted throughout the course of the war. The very public and conten-
tious nature of imperial clashes at Mers el-Kébir, Dakar, North Africa
and the Levant make them ideal case studies as each provoked strong
official and public reactions.
Scholars may quibble with my choice of case studies. They may ask
why some topics such as Franco-British cooperation in India, the New
Hebrides and Cameroun or Franco-British views towards colonial armies
do not feature in the analysis. These are indeed important questions.
They have been addressed by scholars such as Akhila Yechury, Doug-
las Deleney and Jonathan Fennell.35 This book cannot, unfortunately,
engage with every aspect of the imperial wartime experience, without
becoming detached from its core narrative, that is, the evolution of war-
time Franco-British relations seen through the dual lenses of rhetoric
and empire.
Together, the case studies identify what factors influenced French and
British policy towards the French colonial empire. They explain how these
35 See, for instance, Akhila Yechury, ‘“La République Continue, Comme Par le
Passé”: The Myths and Realities of the Resistance in French India’, Outre-Mers,
Revue d’Histoire 103 (2015): 97–116. Douglas Delaney, The Imperial Army Project:
Britain and the Land Forces of the Dominions and India, 1902–1945 (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2018). Jonathan Fennell, Fighting the People’s War: The British and
Commonwealth Armies and the Second World War (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2019). Eric T. Jennings, ‘Britain and Free France in Africa, 1940–1943’, in
British and French Colonialism in Africa, Asia and the Middle East, ed. James R. Fichter
(Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 277–296. Jennings, Vichy in the
Tropics. Jennings, Free French Africa.

Book Structure 15
influences were represented in the resulting policies and the rhetoric that
accompanied them. This means that, inevitably, some voices and loca-
tions will feature more loudly in the narrative than others. Because the
wartime imperial operations under scrutiny were planned in London, for
instance, it is natural for some of the focus of the book to be on the British
capital. It also explains why nationalist voices play a prominent role in the
chapters on the Levant states, and why they are absent in others.
Selected case studies effectively track the shifting nature of Franco-
British relations during the war years while maintaining a relatively
consistent geopolitical perspective: the focus is on high-profile colo-
nial clashes throughout. Emphasis is also placed on initial invasions of
colonial territory that involved British, Vichy and Free French actors.
This is the best way to demonstrate how each side justified its role in or
response to these colonial incursions. In the case of Mers el-Kébir, de
Gaulle’s movement was only a few days old, thus limiting Free French
involvement to a rhetorical one. The Free French also did not participate
militarily in the Torch invasions. However, the debates surrounding
this decision, including the offer of Madagascar’s administration as
consolation and the Free French role in North Africa’s administration,
demonstrate the complexity of Free France’s position in the conflict and
the growing influence of American decision-makers.
The chapters to come range from early British concerns surround-
ing French imperial possessions as exemplified by the violence of Mers
el-Kébir through to the immediate post-war period. By 1945, colonial
issues again played a crucial role in Franco-British relations, this time
in the context of imminent exit from Middle Eastern mandated terri-
tories. Another advantage of ranging across the years 1940–1945 is to
highlight the steady growth of American influence on European colonial
affairs and the consequent French and British reactions to Rooseveltian
anti-imperialist rhetoric. The organisation of this book highlights several
unifying themes: the consistent rhetorical emphasis on Franco-British
wartime solidarity achieved by delegitimising the Vichy government, the
linking of empire with global power, legitimacy and national sovereignty,
the symbolic value of ‘tough’ policies and the overarching role that rhet-
oric played in creating a conceptual framework in which policy-makers
found their actions limited in real ways.
Chapter 1 establishes a critical foundation for the case studies that
follow. It introduces the nuances and complexities of the Franco-British
relationship. It demonstrates the significance of images of Franco-
British cooperation and rivalry that emerged through the events of the
French defeat in June 1940. After the signing of the Franco-German
armistice, two groups began to compete over who truly represented

16 Introduction
France and French interests: Philippe Pétain’s metropolitan government

and Charles de Gaulle’s fledgling London-based resistance movement.
Both British and Gaullist rhetoric continued to stress continuity rather
than division in the Franco-British relationship. It did so by deliberately
severing the bulk of French popular opinion from the actions of the
(un-French) Vichy government. These themes would be at the forefront
of the imperial clashes that followed.
However, maintaining images of alliance was not easy. This becomes
clear in Chapters 4 and 5. British decision-makers wanted to preserve
the French character of joint British-Free French operations in Dakar
and the Levant to avoid accusations from Vichy that Britain was seeking
to seize parts of the French Empire for itself. But these operations relied
on overwhelming British military and political force. Britain was not
always successful in trying to frame the operations as exclusively French
actions. However, the motivations behind this policy were telling. They
highlighted intangible elements of wartime policy, including the need to
be perceived as a legitimate and ethical combatant. They also demon-
strated that British decision-makers anticipated that France would take
a place at the victor’s table after an Allied victory. Chapter 6 also stresses
how important it was to be able to manage how wartime operations were
portrayed. Despite significant British contributions in the 1942 North
African Torch invasions, the operations were characterised and repre-
sented as American. This decision was premised on the assumption that
visible British involvement would foster greater resistance based on long-
standing Franco-British imperial rivalries.
The imperial context highlights the value of overseas territory as a
source of immediate legitimacy and a promise of post-war power. In
Chapter 4, forces loyal to Pétain’s metropolitan government win a mili-
tary and a rhetorical victory over de Gaulle’s Free French movement in
the French Senegalese port of Dakar. Chapters 5, 7 and 8 are centred
around the French Levantine mandates of Syria and Lebanon. Here,
de Gaulle mobilised rhetoric that celebrated historic Franco-Levantine
ties. Images of imperial unity alongside the Free French cause aimed to
enhance the legitimacy of de Gaulle’s movement. However, de Gaulle’s
attempts to preserve French influence in these territories by way of
preferential treaties were met head on by nationalist movements that
refused to comply with French demands. De Gaulle’s Levantine policies
illustrated his commitment to consolidate France’s Empire as a means
of ensuring French post-war power and influence. However, the inter-
nationalisation of nationalist claims in the Levant and widespread con-
demnation of heavy-handed French policies premised on violence and
intimidation limited de Gaulle’s policy choices.

Book Structure 17
For Britain, maintaining French imperial territory in the midst of a

global conflict introduced additional challenges. French colonies and
mandates were captured under the banner of the Free French movement
using British military resources. In the early days following the French
defeat, Britain identified the French fleet and empire as the most imme-
diate threat to its ability to conquer the Nazis. Chapters 2 and 3 explore
the decision to bombard the French fleet at the French Algerian port of
Mers el-Kébir. In British rhetoric, the bombardments were portrayed as
one in a series of necessary and inevitable operations that would pave
the way for Allied victory. Britain also hoped this firm policy towards the
fleet would inspire American confidence in Britain and speed up the pos-
sibility of armed intervention. De Gaulle was forced to stifle his private
anger over these events in favour of maintaining images of Franco-British
unity. Throughout the war, de Gaulle relied upon Britain for mate-
rial support and backing. Yet, the legitimacy of the Free French as the
true representative of French interests was rooted in rhetoric stressing
the independence of his movement. Preserving the appearance of Free
French independence also impacted British policy. Despite having the
ability (and sometimes willingness) to thwart de Gaulle’s wishes, British
policy-makers were constrained by the need to maintain the rhetorical
integrity of the Franco-British alliance.
As the war progressed, de Gaulle’s aggressive policies in the French
Levant made it difficult for Britain to manage the expectations of its own
Middle Eastern territories, including Palestine and Iraq. The close of the
European theatre brought to the fore debates over the future of Franco-
British influence in their respective Middle Eastern mandates. Chapter 8
examines the French bombardment of Damascus in May 1945. This was
a last-ditch effort to force nationalist movements to concede to French
demands, making independence contingent on the preservation of French
cultural, economic and strategic links. This final chapter brings the central
themes of this book full circle. The defeat of Germany saw de Gaulle’s
triumphant return to France as the leader of its provisional government.
At the same time, the future of empire remained a central tenet of Gaul-
list policy, an assurance of global power and influence. The context that
confronted both Britain and France in 1945 was, however, starkly differ-
ent from that of 1940. The internationalisation of imperial issues through
forums such as the San Francisco Conference (the birthplace of the United
Nations) brought new legitimacy to the demands of nationalist movements
and public condemnation of violent imperial policies. Whereas British and
Free French policy-makers had relied on the moral credibility of their war-
time policies towards the French Empire, in 1945, nationalist movements
used this moral rhetoric to their own advantage.

18 Introduction
Policy is not determined by material resources alone. Decision-makers

also account for intangible factors that include public opinion, prestige
and influence. Policy-making is, in other words, ‘a matter of rhetoric and
manoeuvre’.36 The strategic language that is used to defend, debate or
disparage a particular policy is just as important as the material resources
used to fulfil it. An essential part of the policy-making process is being
able to control the narrative around those choices. Decision-makers
try to anticipate public reactions to their policies. Their speculations
influence how decisions are made and how their outcomes are portrayed
and justified.
Throughout the Second World War, leaders in Britain and France
recognised that policy justifications were a critical part of the decision-
making process. Tension between rhetoric and underlying strategic and
economic policies limited both British and French policy options. On all
sides, British, Free French and Vichy leaders mobilised rhetoric to justify
controversial policies, to contest the legitimacy of their rivals’ entitle-
ments to imperial or sovereign rights and to lay claim to foreign territory.
On all sides, rhetoric mattered. The Second World War was a war of
words, as much as one of guns and steel.
36 Maurice Cowling. The Impact of Labour 1920–1924: The Beginning of Modern British
Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971), 4.

1 From the Dunkirk Evacuations
to the Franco-German Armistice
Renegotiating the Franco-British Alliance
On 5 June 1940, French Ambassador to London, Charles Corbin sent a

report to the Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (Ministry of Foreign Affairs).
In it, he flagged up possible wrinkles in the Franco-British partnership. On
the one hand, Corbin praised the spirit of comradery displayed by British
military leadership in support of the Franco-British alliance. On the other
hand, he worried that Britain’s tendency to look inward would lead to a
shift in focus away from the defence of Europe in favour of the British Isles.1
Corbin’s note hinted at the complexities of Franco-British cooperation.
Between late May and June 1940, policy-makers in Britain and France were
constantly debating and subtly reconstructing this multifaceted relationship.
Rhetoric was intrinsic to this process of alliance refinement and, once France
confronted defeat, helped facilitate a shift in British popular perceptions of
the war in the West as a uniquely British struggle. At the same time, rhetori-
cal arguments provided the framework within which the identity and future
of France was reconceptualised: in France, in its empire and in Britain too.
In the years leading up to the outbreak of war in 1939, the Franco-British
relationship was never straightforward. The Entente Cordiale endured
throughout largely due to the exclusion of a formal – and reciprocal – mili-
tary alliance. French negotiations with Britain in 1919 and again in 1921,
which attempted to establish a formal alliance, were not successful. Even
though French security policies shifted between 1919 and 1925 from a
preference for a traditional military alliance to a wider European system of
arbitration networks and mutual assistance pacts, public and parliamentary
opinion in Britain continued to shy away from binding continental com-
mitments.2 British decision-makers were wary of the instability that was
1 Corbin to Ministère des Affaires Étrangères, 5 June 1940, Personal Papers of Charles
Corbin, 391PAAP/2, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (henceforth MAE).
2 J. F. V. Keiger, ‘“Perfidious Albion?” French Perceptions of Britain as an Ally after the
First World War’, in Knowing Your Friends: Intelligence inside Alliances and Coalitions from
1914 to the Cold War, ed. Martin S. Alexander (London: Frank Cass, 1998), 40. Peter
Jackson, ‘French Security and a British “Continental Commitment” after the First
World War: A Reassessment’, The English Historical Review 126, no. 519 (2011): 345.
19

20 From the Dunkirk Evacuations to the Franco-German Armistice
endemic to French politics in the interwar years. Between 1932 and 1940,
the average lifespan of a French Cabinet was only four months.3 The unrest
that dogged Leon Blum’s Socialist government in 1936 caused further
scepticism as to the desirability of building closer ties with France. Joseph
Paul-Boncour, then serving as France’s permanent delegate to the League
of Nations, warned British Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden that the rapid
development of anti-French and anti-British sentiment in both of their
nations was jeopardising future cooperation.4 Conservative MP Viscount
Cranborne (nicknamed Bobbety) met the British ambassador George
Clerk in Paris that September, where both agreed that ‘France must be
written off as a force in international affairs for some time to come’.5
Despite these interwar tensions, 1939 saw unprecedented levels of
cooperation. The Supreme War Council was convened. It was accom-
panied by financial and economic coordination designed to make the
Franco-British alliance, concluded six months earlier, a meaningful real-
ity.6 Following the German invasion of the Low Countries on 10 May
1940, events moved quickly. In the early morning hours of 17 June,
France requested armistice terms with Germany. Spanish dictator Fran-
cisco Franco served as an intermediary. In the days following this request,
uncertainty persisted on both sides. Doubts were sustained by coalescing
around the belief – perhaps more hope than expectation – that French
officials might yet proceed to North Africa to continue the struggle from
the heart of their African empire. Fears that Germany would move swiftly
to secure the French Empire and France’s oceanic fleet only increased
official anxiety in Britain about the choices the French government,
which by then had evacuated from Paris to Bordeaux, might make.
The Franco-German and Franco-Italian armistices went into effect
on 25 June. From this moment onwards, academics and political figures
alike have been trying to explain why Allied forces were overwhelmed so
rapidly and why the French defence system failed. Initially, blame litera-
ture flourished. It attempted to morally condemn the Third Republic and
provide instructions on how to avoid another similar catastrophe.7 Marc
3 Mark Mazower, Dark Continent: Europe’s Twentieth Century (London: Penguin, 1999), 18.
4 Eden to Foreign Office, 17 April 1936, FO 954/8A/18, The National Archives (hence-
forth TNA).
5 Cranborne to Eden, 16 September 1936, FO 954/8A/35, TNA.
6 Philip Bell, ‘Entente Broken and Renewed: Britain and France, 1940–1945’, in Anglo-
French Relations in the Twentieth Century: Rivalry and Cooperation, eds. Alan Sharp and
Glyn Stone (London: Routledge, 2000), 223.
7 Most notably, Andre Geraud’s The Gravediggers of France, Andre Simon’s J’Accuse!
The Men Who Betrayed France and Louis Levy’s The Truth about France. Referenced
from Julian Jackson, The Fall of France: The Nazi Invasion of 1940 (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2003), 3.

From the Dunkirk Evacuations to the Franco-German Armistice 21
Bloch’s Strange Defeat, published in 1949, was influenced by his first-

hand experience of the defeat. Bloch argued that when the war broke out
in 1939, France was unprepared. He blamed this state of affairs on social
fissures and the weakness of the French political structure, which ‘had
already begun to give off the smell of a dry-rot’.8 Narratives of interwar
decline have featured prominently in explanations of French defeat and
the collapse of the Third Republic.9 They were central to the rhetoric
of Vichy and the Révolution Nationale. However, distaste for the Third
Republic, and a sense of relief at its demise, were also common attitudes
amongst Free French officials.10
The initial consensus, in both scholarly and political circles, was that
France was simply outnumbered. German forces had more men and bet-
ter materials.11 This argument became more nuanced in the decades after
the conflict when scholars began to argue that a combination of French
and German tactical strategies and leadership decisions impacted mili-
tary outcomes.12 Most recently, Alan Allport has argued that the failure
to effectively counter-attack German bridgeheads established over the
Meuse between 14 and 16 May was decisive in the collapse of the Third
Republic.13 More than sixty years on, the circumstances surrounding the
armistice and the attitudes of French and British policy-makers in its
aftermath remain a topic of debate. Interpretations that attempted to pin
8 Marc Bloch, Strange Defeat: A Statement of Evidence Written in 1940 (London: Oxford
9 Peter Jackson, ‘Post-War Politics and the Historiography of French Strategy and
Diplomacy before the Second World War’, History Compass 4, no. 5 (2006): 871. See,
for instance, Jean-Baptiste Duroselle, La Décadence 1932–1939 (Paris: Imprimerie
Nationale, 1979). Eugen Weber, The Hollow Years: France in the 1930s (New York: W.
W. Norton & Company, 1994).
10 Jay Winter and Antoine Prost, René Cassin and Human Rights: From the Great War to
the Universal Declaration (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 118.
11 Joel Blatt, ‘Introduction’, in The French Defeat of 1940: Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt
(Providence, RI: Berghahn Books, 1998), 2.
12 See, for instance, Robert Aron, The Century of Total War, trans. E. W. Dickes and
O. S. Griffiths (London: Praeger, 1954), 46. Robert Doughty, The Breaking Point:
Sedan and the Fall of France, 1940 (Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1990). Ernest May,
Strange Victory: Hitler’s Conquest of France (New York: Hill and Wang, 2000), 10.
William Keylor, ‘France and the Illusion of American Support: 1919–1940’, in The
French Defeat of 1940: Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt (Providence, RI: Berghahn Books,
1998), 204–244. Martin Alexander, ‘“Fighting to the Last Frenchman?” Reflections
of the BEF Deployment to France and the Strains in the Franco-British Alliance,
1939–1940’, in The French Defeat of 1940: Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt (Providence,
RI: Berghahn Books, 1998), 296–326. Jackson, The Fall of France. Peter Jackson,
France and the Nazi Menace: Intelligence and Policy Making 1933–1939 (Oxford: Oxford
13 Alan Allport, Britain at Bay: The Epic Story of the Second World War: 1938–1941
(London: Profile Books, 2020), 254.

the cause of the defeat on societal malaise were subject to revision – but,
crucially, not to outright rejection – in the 1970s. That Philip Nord’s
2015 book France 1940 continues to challenge long-standing perceptions
of national decadence is proof of the extent to which the original expla-
nation has clung on.14
Contemporary research has broadened explanations of defeat by
ascribing it to a more complex variety of political, economic and military
factors. Scholars have assessed the defeat from a wider chronology that
includes interwar French and British politics and policies of appease-
ment and the manner in which both nations envisaged a future conflict.15
J.-L. Crémieux-Brilhac’s two-volume study Les Français de l’an 40 (The
French in 1940), published in 1990, remains one of the most ambitious
and comprehensive examples of this wider and more nuanced interpre-
tation. Olivier Wieviorka, Robert Frank and Stanley Hoffmann have
encouraged scholars to not only revisit the causes of the French defeat
but also consider how it is remembered on both sides of the Channel.16
Franco-British rather than exclusively French narratives of 1940 are
essential to understanding the defeat itself, but also how it impacted the
Franco-British alliance in the five years that followed. Integrating empire
into this story captures a still wider set of factors (imperial rivalry, sov-
ereignty and anti-imperial nationalism) that influenced the conflict, and
the narratives that developed around the conflict, in fundamental ways.
This chapter tracks the development of Franco-British rhetoric leading
up to and following the request for and acceptance of a Franco-German
armistice. It argues that the collapse of French military resistance in June
1940 forced each side to redefine its position within the altered strategic
context of France’s surrender. The Franco-German armistice had hugely
different consequences for France and Britain. Each side interpreted and
14 Philip Nord, France 1940: Defending the Republic (New Haven, CT: Yale University
Press, 2015). See the introduction for an especially good summary of the present
historiography explaining the French defeat in 1940.
15 See, for instance, Stanley Hoffman, Decline or Renewal? France since the 1930s (New
York: The Viking Press, 1974). Julian Jackson, France: The Dark Years, 1940–1944
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), Chapter 5. Martin Thomas, Britain, France
and Appeasement: Anglo-French Relations in the Popular Front Era (London: Berg,
1997). Talbot Imlay, Facing the Second World War: Strategy, Politics and Economics in
Britain and France 1938–1940 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 5.
16 Stanley Hoffmann, ‘The Trauma of 1940: A Disaster and Its Traces’, in The French
Defeat of 1940: Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt (Providence, RI: Berghahn Books,
1998), 354–371. Olivier Wierviorka, La Mémoire Désunie: Le Souvenir Politique des
Années Sombres, de la Libération à nos Jours (Paris: Le Seuil, 2010). Robert Frank,
‘The Second World War through French and British Eyes’, in Britain and France in
Two World Wars: Truth, Myth and Memory, eds. Robert Tombs and Emile Chabal
(London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 179–191.

From the Dunkirk Evacuations to the Franco-German Armistice 23
explained the French defeat in very different terms. Each side offered a
very different vision of France’s future. June 1940 would, in retrospect,
become the point at which Britain’s wartime experience parted ways with
Marshal Pétain’s metropolitan French government. However, in the
midst of the crisis, the immediate situation was much less clear. The col-
lapse of France was less of a surprise than a new, and initially uncertain,
phase of the conflict, in which alliances had to be realigned and redefined.
Decision-makers in Britain and metropolitan France attempted to
make sense of the defeat by laying blame upon a specific group of men,
a national illness or the traitorous actions of the Belgian King, Leopold.
Pétain promised French renewal in the wake of defeat while British rheto-
ric guaranteed victory against Nazi Germany and the restoration of the
French state. General Charles de Gaulle’s Free French movement chal-
lenged the idea of a French capitulation, proposing continued French
resistance and a continuation of the Franco-British alliance. British and
Free French challenges to the legitimacy of Pétain’s government were
tied to strategic concerns such as the fate of the French fleet and the loy-
alty of the French Empire. They also reflected attempts to establish the
credibility of their actions on a wider scale: in the eyes of their respective
empires, the United States and their own publics. The imagery and argu-
ments that were established during this period of extreme uncertainty
formed the framework around which policy-makers and resistance move-
ments would take sides and justify their actions over the next five years.
From the lead up to the Dunkirk evacuations in late May until the
conclusion of the Franco-German armistice a month later, each side
gradually and tentatively redefined the conflict to fit with its new status
either as a belligerent or a (proposed) neutral actor. During this period,
rhetoric was mobilised to justify or criticise the Franco-German armi-
stice and the legitimacy of Pétain’s metropolitan government. In both
France and Britain, policy-makers prepared to defend their respective
visions for the future, whether inside or outside of the conflict. As the
Axis forces swept through France in 1940, British and French politi-
cal actors recognised the need to justify important decisions through
official announcements and carefully crafted speeches. This rhetoric
mattered because policy-makers believed in its ability to shape public
sentiment locally and globally. Rhetoric was a way to frame and defend
strategic actions and to indicate how those choices would determine the
future of each nation. The broader themes of morality, decay, rebirth
and justice that suffused early interpretations of the French defeat, the
ongoing British struggle and the Franco-German armistice reflected
how policy-makers attempted to impose a sense of certainty in a highly
uncertain context.

Expectations of Victory
Well before the conflict developed into the global struggle it became,
British and French policy-makers were planning how to sustain morale
and active participation in the war effort at home. As early as April 1939,
a British Cabinet report identified the need to personalise propaganda
messages, recognising differences in regional attitudes and viewpoints.
In regard to the actual persuasive power of such a campaign, the report
speculated: ‘The English people, being, in the broadest sense, idealistic
and illogical in temperament, are probably at least averagely susceptible
to propaganda (more so than the French)’.17 In France, the creation
of the Service Général d’Information similarly served to conduct wartime
operations ‘in the moral and psychological domain …’.18 More than a
year later, in late May 1940, British officials continued to recognise the
importance of maintaining public confidence through official statements
and communications. Messages on both sides of the Channel promised
that no matter how difficult the struggle, final victory was only a matter
of time. This notion of inevitable victory would remain at the heart of
British rhetoric throughout the conflict.
British policy in late May was balanced between two contradictory
approaches. First, it recognised the possibility of French defeat. This led to
efforts to preserve resources for home defence. Second, defensive prepa-
rations were carried out alongside sustained efforts to bolster French
and British morale in order to continue the war. Public announcements
dismissed speculations about strains in the Franco-British alliance. They
continued to exaggerate RAF successes in engaging with the enemy and
providing air support for the evacuations at Dunkirk. By late May, how-
ever, images of Allied military strength were foundering under the weight
of the German advance. When Churchill visited Paris on 16 May, he
found French Premier Paul Reynaud in a state of panic, claiming that
the war was lost. British Foreign Office intelligence concluded that the
German breakthrough at Sedan had resulted in ‘a severe shock … to the
whole of French public opinion’.19
The gravity of the military situation contributed to the British deci-
sion to prepare for the possibility of a French withdrawal. It also forced
decision-makers to consider the likelihood that Britain and its empire
could continue the war without the support of French forces. The now
17 ‘International Propaganda and Broadcasting Enquiry, Possible Lines of Activity Now

Open to the Home Publicity Enquiry’,12 April 1939, CAB 102/374, TNA.
18 ‘Instructions pour la création du Service Général d’Information’, 15 June 1940,
F/41/13-F/41-14, Archives Nationales [henceforth AN].
19 Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 22 May 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA.

Expectations of Victory 25
infamous report ‘British Strategy in a Certain Eventuality’ argued that

the British people could stand up to the strain of aerial bombardment
and suggested that economic warfare could be leveraged to achieve a
British victory.20 By 25 May, French policy-makers were also consider-
ing the possibility of withdrawal. Possible options were discussed within
the Comité de Guerre (War Committee).21 The progression of Allied mili-
tary fortunes from late May had been well studied and will not be exam-
ined in detail here. Rather, the aim is to focus upon the subtle rhetorical
shifts that began to take place as each player started to renegotiate its
place in or outside of the conflict. These shifts were important because
the rhetoric that emerged would be central to the wartime discourse of
all three actors – British, Vichy and Free French.
Contradictions between official statements and behind the scenes
actions were a product of the complexity and uncertainty that pervaded
this period. While Britain prepared to withhold resources for the defence
of the island, it mobilised a contrary rhetoric of grand gestures and proc-
lamations in an effort to stave off French withdrawal as long as possible.
On both sides, statements praised the strength of the Franco-British alli-
ance even as tensions multiplied behind closed doors.
Nearly two weeks after German forces had invaded the Low Countries
and breached French defences, the Franco-British alliance appeared to
be holding together. Reynaud made a series of addresses in the French
Senate, which, although grave, professed a renewed sense of purpose.
Despite French General Maurice Gamelin’s sterling reputation as the
man who had turned back the Germans at the 1914 Battle of the Marne
and salvaged French affairs during the 1925 Druze revolt in Syria, Reyn-
aud replaced him with General Maxime Weygand on 19 May. Weygand
proclaimed that he was ‘full of confidence provided everyone does his
duty with a fierce energy’.22 However, as the German armies approached
the Channel ports, the situation appeared bleak. On 26 May, Churchill
gave the order to begin evacuating the British Expeditionary Force
(BEF) at Dunkirk as part of Operation Dynamo.
This order, which acknowledged the seriousness of events on the
ground, contrasted sharply with positive press coverage of Allied fighting.
The tone of the French press was optimistic, and it also praised British
contributions. Justice wrote, ‘The French are courageous. The British
manly and tenacious. With such qualities associated for the triumph
20 ‘British Strategy in a Certain Eventuality’, Report by the Chiefs of Staff, 25 May

1940, CAB 66/7/48, TNA.
21 Bell, ‘Entente Broken and Renewed’, 225–226.
22 R. Campbell to Foreign Office, 22 May 1940, FO 371/24310, TNA.

of the same ideal, we are invincible’.23 British Minister of Information

Duff Cooper made similar assurances in a Home Service broadcast
on 21 May. Regardless of setbacks, he argued, ‘The end of this battle,
whatever it may be, cannot entail the defeat of Great Britain or France
in the war’.24 This observation of the inevitability of victory based upon
moral ideals rather than military or material superiority was a key com-
ponent of first Franco-British and later British and Free French rheto-
ric. These types of moral arguments also provided a sense of clarity to
the conflict, by contrasting Franco-British righteousness with German
wickedness.25 Metropolitan French, or Vichy rhetoric, to the contrary,
would focus upon explaining the French defeat as a product of material
inferiority and social decadence. Prior to this divergence, both French
and British policy-makers supported and made claims that eventual vic-
tory was still assured.
The capitulation of King Leopold of Belgium on 28 May, although
a disaster militarily, was an opportunity for French and British sources
to issue renewed assurances of victory. These assurances were fuelled
by disgust over Leopold’s immoral and traitorous actions. Reynaud’s
broadcast in response to the capitulation – ‘Our faith in victory remains
complete’ – was consistent with the optimism present throughout the
mass media and in public opinion reports.26 As the evacuations pro-
gressed, the British press continued to cite its approval of Weygand and
the belief that strong Allied resistance was wearing down their German
rivals.27 Reports from France also remained optimistic, stating that lines
on the Somme and Aisne would be held firmly.28 In fact, Cooper believed
that public sentiment was too optimistic and urged the War Cabinet
to make a frank public statement via the BBC. He feared that military
disaster at Dunkirk would crush public optimism and discredit promises
of eventual victory.29 There was little belief within parliament that the
evacuations had any hope of success. Churchill estimated that no more
than 50,000 individuals would be taken off.30 Weygand recalled in his

24 ‘The Situation – As It Is Tonight’, Home Service Broadcast, 21 May 1940, DUFC
8/1/20, Churchill Archive Centre [henceforth CCAC].
25 Michael Bess, Choices under Fire: Moral Dimensions of World War II (New York:
Vintage Books, 2006), 3.
27 J. L. Garvin, ‘Britain at Bay: Our Army and Its Bases’, Observer, 26 May 1940, 6.
‘“Full Blooded” Offensives Repulsed by Allies’, The Guardian, 27 May 1940, 5.
29 Cabinet Conclusion, 28 May 1940, CAB 65/7/39, TNA.
30 John Lukacs, Five Days in London, May 1940 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press,
1999), 175.

Expectations of Victory 27
own memoirs that Reynaud had argued for equal evacuation of French
and British troops in order to avoid compromising public perceptions of
the future of the alliance.31
French and British officials followed a policy of withholding informa-
tion from the public in order to avoid massive swings either towards over
optimism or deep pessimism. Official pronouncements avoided specula-
tions concerning the likely success or failure of the evacuations. Politi-
cal rhetoric focussed instead on the spectre of ultimate victory in the
future. Official statements and broadcasts were duplicated in the press
on both sides as a way to demonstrate continued resolve in the conflict
and the alliance.32 These intense efforts were aimed at creating a frame-
work in which the public could not conceive the possibility of defeat.
Cooper broadcast on 28 May, noting the seriousness of the situation,
but offering the belief that ‘there should be no loss of complete confi-
dence in our ability to achieve ultimate victory’.33 Reynaud broadcast
on the same day. He shifted blame away from French and British forces
by pointing out that the Belgian withdrawal had opened the Dunkirk
route to German divisions.34 Drawing out the imagery employed by both
sides during the final days of May highlights the role that rhetoric played
in strengthening the idea of the Franco-British alliance and shoring up
expectations of an eventual Allied victory. Maintaining images of Allied
strength impacted policy-making in concrete ways. On this basis, British
decision-makers argued against Reynaud’s request to petition the United
States directly for assistance. The Foreign Office criticised the idea as
a show of weakness and panic. It would be more expedient, it argued,
to make a public statement regarding British commitment to the fight
ahead.35 War Cabinet discussions concluded that such an appeal would
only ‘confirm American fears as to our weakness and would not produce
the desired effect’.36
Despite the confident tone of French and British rhetoric, the partner-
ship was being strained by the uncertainty of the military situation on the
ground. Behind closed doors, both French and British decision-makers
31 Maxime Weygand, Recalled to Service, trans. E. W. Dickes (Melbourne: William

Heinemann Ltd., 1952), 87.
32 ‘Les commandements britannique et français ont pris leurs dispositions’, Echo d’Alger,
29 May 1940, 1. ‘Reynaud Tells France: Leopold’s Act No Precedent in History’, The
Guardian, 29 May 1940, 7.
33 ‘Belgian Capitulation’, Home Service Programme, 28 May 1940, DUFC 8/2/17,
CCAC.
34 ‘Le discours radiodiffusé de M. Paul Reynaud’, Le Temps, 29 May 1940, 1.
35 Llewellyn Woodward, British Foreign Policy in the Second World War (London: Her
Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1962), 54.
36 War Cabinet 145 (40) Conclusions, 28 May 1940, CAB 65/7/40, TNA.

acknowledged the possibility that France could be forced to withdraw

from the conflict. Even as this possibility was entertained, it had to be
suppressed publicly to encourage continued cooperation. The difficulty
of maintaining such a contradictory policy in the long term was articu-
lated in a message from Churchill. Circulated within the government, it
made it clear that speculations over the French making a separate peace
should not be entertained. However, regardless of what happened in the
coming weeks, the note added, Britain would continue the fight.37 Brit-
ish policy in the midst and immediate aftermath of Operation Dynamo
thus aimed to keep French forces in the war as long as possible. How-
ever, rhetoric that celebrated the Franco-British alliance and prom-
ised victory was not always backed up by material support. Wartime
resources were increasingly being set aside for home defence. At the
same time, senior British officials were making the case that the British
would be better off without their French partners. Permanent Under-
secretary for Foreign Affairs Alexander Cadogan argued that sending
British planes to France would leave Britain defenceless. He also made
the more emotive claim that the French were ‘quite helpless and [had]
no stomach for the fight’.38
The Dunkirk operations evacuated 316,663 men between 26 May and
4 June. They were viewed as a success, and the outcome was greeted with
a great deal of relief. Policy-makers found themselves struggling to mod-
erate the public response.39 Although successful as a withdrawal opera-
tion, decision-makers hoped to frame the event as a precursor for the
difficult fight ahead. The coming days saw renewed confidence amongst
the British public. Criticisms of the French diminished and confidence in
the alliance increased. However, opinion reports suggested that morale
was almost ‘too good’ and that elation directed at the return of the BEF
had resulted in a failure to understand the significance of the event.40
Interpreting the Dunkirk Evacuations

For as long as the success of the evacuations remained unlikely, British
public opinion was critical of French armed forces. The British Ministry
of Information (MOI) noted a tendency to criticise the French, based on
37 Circulation, Churchill, 29 May 1940, PREM 4/68/9, TNA.

38 Alexander Cadogan, 31 May 1940, The Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan 1938–1945,
ed. David Dilks (London: Cassell, 1971), 293.
39 ‘Official Report from Operation Dynamo’, Office of the Flag Officer Commanding,
Dover, 18 June 1940, SMVL 7, CCAC.
40 ‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 3 June 1940, INF 1/264, TNA.

Interpreting the Dunkirk Evacuations 29
rumours of France’s likely capitulation.41 After the evacuations were car-

ried off successfully, criticism declined sharply. Churchill described pub-
lic sentiment as wholly confident in the eventuality of victory: ‘There was
a white glow, overpowering, sublime, which ran through our island from
end to end’.42 Taking a more circumspect view, MOI analysts believed
that this decline was in part due to positive press treatment of the fight-
ing abilities of the French army.43 Many press reports emphasised the
heroic action of the men taking part in the evacuations, leaving no doubt
as to the solidity of the Franco-British relationship. One article cited the
‘Anglo-French brotherhood’ as ‘a demonstration of the supreme vital-
ity of the youth of the two countries’.44 The French press also focussed
upon the heroic efforts of French and British forces. On the other hand,
British author and journalist J. B. Priestley’s 5 June broadcast claimed
that the ability to carry out the operations when failure loomed was a sign
of that special English ability to right a ‘miserable blunder’.45 In the days
that followed, claims of the superiority of the RAF came under scrutiny,
calling into question the credibility of government and press rhetoric.
As the initial relief that had accompanied the success of the evacuations
wore away, doubts over the ability of French forces to hold out in the
long term resurfaced.
Leo Amery, newly appointed to the India Office, had high praise for
Churchill as a war leader and expressed his jubilation over the success
of the Dunkirk evacuations. But by early June, he wrote of his own and
Churchill’s fear that the French line would break under attack, lead-
ing directly to France’s exit from the war.46 Churchill’s private secretary
John Colville recorded in his diary that Reynaud’s frequent telephone
calls requesting more planes and troops were a source of annoyance to
Churchill, who was focussed upon consolidating the home front and pre-
serving resources for its defence. Yet, Churchill remained cognisant of
the need to sustain French morale, giving it ‘no excuse for a collapse’.47
Churchill’s desire to bolster French resolve went hand in hand with his
41 ‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 27 May 1940 (includes 26), INF 1/264, TNA.
42 Winston S. Churchill, The Second World War, vol. 2, Their Finest Hour (London:
Cassell & Co. Ltd, 1949), 88.
43 ‘Public Opinion on the Present Crisis’, 31 May 1940, INF 1/264, TNA.
44 Our Own Correspondent, ‘Anglo-French Brotherhood’s Supreme Example: Profound
Effect of Dunkirk Battle’, The Guardian, 1 June 1940, 9.
45 J. B. Priestley, ‘Broadcast from June 5 1940’, taken from Sonya O. Rose, Which
People’s War? National Identity and Citizenship in Britain 1939–1945 (Oxford: Oxford
46 Leo Amery, Transcribed Diary, 4 June 1940, AMEL 7/34, CCAC.
47 Sir John Colville, Private Diaries, 1 June 1940, CLVL 1/2, CCAC.

efforts to strengthen public confidence at home. At the same time that

officials were casting doubts on the durability of the French war effort,
public criticism in Britain was building in response to reports surround-
ing the lack of air support provided during the evacuations.
Grandiose claims about the feats of the RAF contradicted the stories
of returning soldiers.48 The MOI reported that first-hand stories from
returning troops were casting doubts over the truthfulness of the broad-
casts and press reports recounting RAF feats.49 Public frustrations over
the lack of accurate news and criticisms over official censorship were not
ignored. In the wake of the Dunkirk evacuations, British officials took
note of how and why official rhetoric was being criticised. The public
opinion analyses compiled through the MOI stressed the value that the
public placed upon having access to pragmatic accounts of events. In
turn, the care that leading officials began to take in drafting justifica-
tions for potentially controversial policies was a sign of the perceived
importance of public opinion and by association, the rhetoric that helped
shape those opinions.
The success of the evacuations did rally spirits in the short term. In
Britain, they also led to renewed support for the Franco-British alli-
ance. Despite how the evacuations may be remembered today, in 1940,
French and British rhetoric alike viewed them as a joint success. The
‘Spirit of Dunkirk’ was not always an exclusively British memory. As
Martin Alexander has pointed out, Dunkirk, while rapidly becoming
proof of the British ability to muddle through, was initially recognised by
British civilians as an episode in which the French had taken the brunt of
the attack.50 Likewise, French reactions in early June remained positive,
referencing the glorious feats and resistance of the combined French and
British fighting forces.51 As was the case before the evacuations were car-
ried off, depictions of the Franco-British alliance were rooted in the idea
that final victory was only a matter of time. These images of inevitable
victory were not based upon material superiority or military prepared-
ness. Rather, they were rooted in moralising language that described the
conflict in binaries of good vs. evil or man vs. machine. In the British
48 ‘Towards the End in Flanders: Bulk of BEF Withdrawn, German Air Raids in the
South of France, Another 113 Planes Fall to RAF’, The Guardian, 3 June 1940, 5. ‘4
to 1 Gains by RAF: Dunkirk Air Battles 169 Nazi Planes in 3 Days’, The Guardian, 3
June 1940, 5.
50 Martin S. Alexander, ‘Dunkirk in Military Operations, Myths and Memories’, in
Britain and France in Two World Wars: Truth, Myth and Memory, eds. Robert Tombs
and Emile Chabal (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 100.
51 ‘Les opérations militaires: La belle résistance de Dunkerque’, Le Temps, 3 June 1940, 1.

case, these depictions also drew liberally from the past, holding up his-
toric British victories as guarantees of future ones. This kind of language
was evident in First Lord of the Admiralty, A. V. Alexander’s empire
broadcast, which portrayed the Germans as sadistic murderers.
We have proved to the world what we ourselves have always known – that the
free men of the democracies are man for man superior, not merely to the masses
of German infantry herded into the fight, but also to the specially trained
fanatics of the German shock troops whose minds have been systematically
perverted in order to make them ruthless killers of innocent men, women and
children.52
Reports in the French and British press also celebrated Dunkirk. Sto-
ries of heroism and Allied unity were used as proof of future military suc-
cesses. One French article described with emotion the scene as heroes
disembarked in England.53 Broadcasts and news stories aligned Ameri-
can opinion with French and British efforts, arguing that the resolve of
the BEF was responsible for the success of the evacuations. The BEF’s
‘refusal to accept defeat’ was ‘the guarantee of final victory’.54 Repro-
ducing American praise for the evacuations was a way to highlight their
success. They also legitimised wider Allied aims by linking them to the
opinion of a powerful ‘neutral’ state.55
The high praise evident in the mass media and recorded in estimates
of public opinion once again left some unease in political circles. It was
difficult to strike a balance between public optimism and complacence.
And Franco-British fighting capabilities were now severely restricted
as a result of the withdrawals. Within the French government, internal
critique of British actions was common. Paul Morand, director of the
French Mission for Economic Warfare in London, observed that in the
Quai d’Orsay, opinion was that British forces had left France for good.
Morand himself argued that things would work themselves out between
the allies, but noted that something felt different: ‘… j’ai senti que la
BEF passait au second plan et le Home Front aux premier’.56 The dis-
putes were kept out of public view so as not to cast doubt on the strength
52 ‘Broadcasts to the Empire’, 12 June 1940, AVAR 13/2, CCAC.

53 ‘La bataille de Dunkerque: Les héros des Flandres débarquent à Londres’, L’Echo
d’Alger, 3 June 1940, 1.
54 ‘The “Battle of the Ports”: Mr. Eden’s Stirring Story of the Feat of the BEF’, The
Guardian, 3 June 1940, 6. ‘“Triumph of an Army”: Four-Fifths of BEF Saved, Mr.
Eden’s Tribute’, The Times, 3 June 1940, 3.
55 ‘L’épopée des Flandres a frappé d’admiration l’opinion américaine’, Echo d’Alger, 4
June 1940, 1.
56 Paul Morand, Journal de Guerre: Londres-Paris-Vichy 1939–1943, ed. Bénédicte
Vergez-Chaignon (Paris: Gallimard, 2020), 225.

of the alliance.57 Victory was conceptualised within the framework of the

Franco-British alliance, which meant that suppressing internal disputes
was essential to ensuring the legitimacy of these promises. Mass Obser-
vation (MO) diarists from London, who had been tasked with reporting
on their own sentiments and observing attitudes around them, remained
generally optimistic. They wrote that others also interpreted Dunkirk
as a great achievement. A London shopkeeper observed that citizens
appeared calmer than in previous months.58 These observations fostered
fears that the evacuations were being misinterpreted as a victory over
rather than an escape from enemy forces. Calls for revenge following
German air raids on Paris on 4 June led the MOI to conclude that the
British public had no real understanding of the potential consequences
of retaliatory raids on Germany.59 Reports recommended correcting
interpretations of Dunkirk, which tended to see the retreat as not only
a victory but as a ‘lasting achievement’ and a sign that ‘we cannot ulti-
mately be beaten’.60 Churchill’s Commons speech, published widely on
5 June, attempted to focus attention towards the longer struggle ahead.
Although the tone of the address was widely praised in the press, the
MOI reported a slight increase in anti-French sentiment, attributed to
Churchill’s references to fighting alone.61 Churchill’s address was pub-
lished widely in the French press, as was praise for the orderly manner in
which the evacuations had been carried out.62
By 10 June, the early jubilation that had greeted the evacuations was
wearing off, replaced in official circles by a sense of growing unease. Rey-
naud’s 5 June Cabinet shuffle had brought Paul Baudouin and Charles
de Gaulle to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Ministry of Defence,
respectively. It had also provided the opportunity to remove Reynaud’s
nemesis in the Foreign Ministry, the former Premier, Edouard Dala-
dier. However, Reynaud’s changes did little to quash growing defeatist
sentiment. On 10 June, the French government left Paris for Tours and
declared Paris an open city. German troops would occupy the French
capital four days later. On 15 June, by which time the French govern-
ment had evacuated to the Loire region, British Ambassador Sir Ron-
ald Campbell reported to the Foreign Office that Reynaud was making
57 Richard Griffiths, Marshal Pétain (London: Constable, 1970), 231.

58 Mass Observation Diary 5039.3, 29 May 1940, Mass Observation Archives [hence-
forth MOA].
60 Ibid.
62 ‘La fin de la bataille des Flandres’, Le Temps, 6 June 1940, 1. ‘Les dernières forces de
terre et de mer ont quitté Dunkerque en bon ordre’, L’Echo d’Alger, 5 June 1940, 1.

France’s continuing war effort contingent upon an American promise to

enter the war at an early date.
Reynaud had telegraphed President Roosevelt to request such a com-
mitment on 13 June. The telegram symbolised the rapid deterioration
of the Allied war effort in June and the weakening of the Franco-British
alliance. In the days leading up to the French armistice request, British
policy reflected the uncertainty of France’s position within the wider war-
time context. We know that decision-makers recognised the possibility
that France could withdraw from the conflict. Campbell and Churchill’s
personal representative to Reynaud, Edward Spears, drew up plans to
obtain the scuttling of the French fleet in the event that France could not
carry on.63 However, policy-makers also appreciated the importance of
maintaining the appearance of a joint war effort for as long as possible.
This policy relied heavily on public and private statements that reiter-
ated the strength of the alliance and the victory that would result from
its continuation.
The reply that Reynaud received from Washington fell far short of his
expectations. It promised material support but not a declaration of war.64
Nevertheless, Churchill attempted to bolster Reynaud by arguing that the
content of Roosevelt’s message was sufficient to continue the struggle.
Churchill quoted directly from Reynaud’s own rhetoric, ‘[The] cabinet is
united in considering this magnificent document as decisive in favour of
continued resistance of France in accordance with your own declaration of
June 10 about fighting before Paris, behind Paris, in a province or if neces-
sary in Africa or across the Atlantic’.65 Behind closed doors, however, the
War Cabinet resolved to press Roosevelt for more concrete aid. A second
note stressed the ‘moral and psychological effect’ of American entrance
into the war.66 Intelligence reports concluded that the British public, far
from being encouraged by Roosevelt’s promises, was inclined to attribute
Reynaud’s appeal to the imminence of a French collapse. Churchill also
faced criticism. Vague promises such as ‘we will never surrender’ and ‘we
will fight in the streets, on the hills …’ may now hold an almost prophetic
status. However, at the time, they were criticised for failing to address defi-
ciencies in men and equipment and to rectify growing shortages.67 Less
than two weeks after the evacuations were concluded, pressure was mount-
ing. British policy-makers were facing renewed criticism from a public that
63 R. Campbell to Foreign Office, 15 June 1940, FO 371/24310, TNA.

64 Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 25 June 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA.
65 Churchill to Reynaud, 14 June 1940, 10GMII/331, MAE.
66 War Cabinet 167 (40) Conclusions, 15 June 1940, CAB 65/7/62, TNA.
67 ‘Public Opinion on Present Crisis’, 14 June 1940, INF 1/264, TNA.

was anxious to see quantifiable progress in the war effort. Meanwhile, the
French government confronted internal divisions as it tried desperately to
contend with the chaos of military invasion and social upheaval.
‘Weather Fine, Paris Surrendered’

On 15 June, Reynaud asked British officials under what conditions they
would be willing to release France from the 28 March agreement not
to seek out a separate peace.68,69 At the same time, Reynaud assured
Churchill and the War Cabinet that he was certain that German terms
would be unacceptable, allowing him to resume the struggle with a
renewed sense of purpose. In this way, Reynaud’s request was framed
not as a precursor to exiting the conflict, but rather, as a way to shore up
morale in the metropole for a long battle ahead. Reynaud himself was
largely in favour of continuing the conflict, if not from within France,
then from one of its colonies. Reynaud’s successors also reiterated these
promises, even if they had little intention of putting them into action.
In the flurry of telegrams that followed, the British initially agreed to
allow French officials to enquire about German terms on the condition
that the French fleet would proceed immediately to Britain. This adden-
dum annoyed Reynaud.70 Shortly after, Campbell received instructions
to withdraw British consent. Instead, he was to propose a Franco-British
union, which would carry on the war. Despite de Gaulle’s enthusiasm
and Reynaud’s initial positivity upon hearing this new offer, the French
cabinet declined to accept. Reynaud resigned on 16 June. His replace-
ment, Marshal Philippe Pétain, the hero of Verdun, requested armistice
terms through Spain in the early morning hours of 17 June.
The uncertainty that pervaded the days immediately before and after
the French request for German armistice terms cannot be overempha-
sised. Policy-makers on both sides of the Channel had to operate and
make decisions without access to full information and in an environ-
ment that was constantly shifting. Paul Morand heard Pétain’s radio
address announcing the request for armistice terms only an hour before
he was due to attend a lunch in honour of the Franco-British alliance
and future Franco-British economic cooperation.71 Churchill’s represen-
tative in France, Edward Spears, also experienced first hand this sense
68 Mass Observation Diary 5094, 14 June 1940, MOA.

69 W. M. (40) 168th Conclusions, Minute 1, Confidential Annex, 16 June 1940, CAB
65/13/45, TNA.
70 Sir Edward Spears, Assignment to Catastrophe (London: Heinemann, 1954), 582.
71 Morand, Journal de Guerre, 239–240.

‘Weather Fine, Paris Surrendered’ 35
of confusion and indecision. In a bizarre meeting with Pétain follow-

ing his appointment to Reynaud’s government, the Marshal refused to
discuss the present conflict and instead read aloud a long speech about
Joan of Arc.72 Spears, who Churchill later appointed as Chief Liaison
Officer to de Gaulle, recalled in his memoirs his personal disgust for
those French ministers who were in favour of withdrawing France from
the war. Regarding former Premier Pierre Laval Spears wrote, he was ‘a
revolting sight and he made me feel sick’.73 Spears may have exaggerated
his physical response to Laval’s presence at the time, but his reactions
were consistent with wider frustrations in the British government aimed
at ‘defeatist’ officials like Weygand, Laval and Pétain.
Although Spears supported the offer of Franco British Union, it was
received with a great deal of scepticism on both sides. It is wrong to attri-
bute too much meaning to an offer that was highly symbolic and made at
a point when many rightly believed that French collapse was imminent.
War Cabinet discussions surrounding the offer described the importance
of making a statement of unity ‘in a dramatic form’ that would con-
vince France to abandon armistice discussions.74 Even Churchill admit-
ted that, although he was initially opposed to the suggestion of union,
he believed that ‘some dramatic announcement was necessary to keep
the French going’.75 Pétain described the agreement as a marriage to a
corpse, an image that was not inconsistent with the broad scepticism on
both sides.76 Undersecretary of Foreign Affairs Paul Baudouin argued
that such an agreement would provide no immediate practical relief to
France.77 And Cadogan reflected following a 10 a.m. War Cabinet meet-
ing on 15 June, ‘No one seems to be very keen on the idea of Anglo-
French union’.78 Yet, the symbolic nature of this gesture was important.
It illustrated the value that British policy-makers attached to portray-
ing the conflict as a collaborative or allied effort. The conclusion of the
Franco-German armistice and the division of France would complicate
but not eliminate the idea of Franco-British alliance.
As a grand gesture, the offer of Franco-British union failed in its mis-
sion to prolong the French war effort. The request for German armi-
stice terms shifted the conflict into a new phase in which each side had
72 Jackson, The Dark Years, 125.

73 Spears, Assignment, 558–559.
74 W. M. (40) 167th Conclusions, Minute 6 Confidential Annex, 15 June 1940, CAB
65/13/44, TNA.
76 Tombs, That Sweet Enemy, 562.
77 Paul Baudouin, The Private Diaries of Paul Baudouin, trans. Sir Charles Petrie, BT
(London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1948), 116.
78 Cadogan, Diaries, 299.

to renegotiate and clarify its position inside or outside of the conflict.

French and British officials issued a series of statements that justified
their policies and attempted to consolidate public support around them.
With ongoing fighting and limited resources, coverage in the French
press was understandably sparse. Following the armistice request, Le
Temps published only two editions, one covering 19–21 June and the
second 25 June. Imperial publications maintained a regular schedule.
In the years to come, these press shortages would give new importance
to Pétain’s broadcasts. At the time of his early broadcasts, French roads
remained clogged with refugees, making it difficult to know how many
were able to listen to radio news.79 Both Pétain and Churchill made radio
broadcasts on 17 June following the official request for terms, which had
been made early that morning. Pétain, in a well-known address at noon
that day, told the nation ‘with a broken heart … fighting must cease’.80
The text of this address and another declaration made by the now Min-
ister for Foreign Affairs Paul Baudouin were both printed in the Algiers
press the following day. Both Pétain and Baudouin’s addresses praised
the heroic and noble efforts of the French forces against an enemy that
was technologically and numerically superior.81 Baudouin’s address also
attempted to justify an armistice based on a narrow and very limited defi-
nition of nationhood and sovereignty. He concluded that the existence of
the French nation meant maintaining ‘the purity of the French soul’ and
the ‘spiritual heritage’ of the homeland.82
These depictions of the French nation – what it stood for and its posi-
tion in the conflict – reflected a divergence in French and British war aims
and perceptions of where French sovereignty resided. The narratives that
developed out of this divergence would become central to British, Vichy
and Free French rhetoric throughout the war. For British policy-makers,
national sovereignty meant having the ability to control one’s own bor-
ders and the land within those borders. British criticisms of Pétain’s met-
ropolitan government were based on the claim that it had no real power
over internal affairs. By the same token, British support for what would
become Charles de Gaulle’s Free French movement argued that a legiti-
mate representative of the French state had to be acting to regain control
of French territory from the Axis forces. These competing definitions of
79 Pétain’s addresses between 1940 and 1942 can be found in this volume: Philippe
Pétain, Les Paroles et Les Écrits du Maréchal Pétain, 16 Juin 1940-1 Janvier 1942
(Editions de la Légion, 1942).
81 ‘Le Maréchal Pétain président du Conseil parle à la France’, L’Echo d’Alger, 18 June
1940, 1. ‘Poignante déclaration de M. Baudouin’, L’Echo d’Alger, 18 June 1940, 1.
82 Ibid.

sovereignty led to a situation in which the metropolitan French govern-

ment and Free French movement fought over who represented the legiti-
mate French nation. Taking ownership of French heritage and culture
as well as French colonial territory would play an important role within
these arguments and the rhetoric and imagery they produced.
Pétain and Baudouin’s broadcasts shared press space with Churchill’s
radio address. The Algiers press observed that British officials appeared
united in their decision to fight until victory was achieved. This deci-
sion was made only after carefully considering the availability of mate-
rial resources. It assumed an eventual American declaration of war. But
Churchill blithely claimed that fighting on was assumed, not discussed.
‘… we were much too busy to waste time upon such unreal, academic
issues’.83 Churchill’s rhetoric, both in the midst of and in the aftermath
of the conflict, was strikingly similar. His stated certainty that ‘in the
end all will be well’, formed the basis of British rhetoric, which centred
upon the certainty of victory in an honourable struggle.84 Although some
MO diarists were sceptical of Churchill’s assuring speech, many writers
observed that the public found his oratory to be ‘like a tonic’ or greatly
soothing.85 A female writer from North London concluded pithily ‘the
better educated stand these things less well than the simple’.86 Press
reports suggested that the request for armistice terms was tragic, but not
a shock. It had been expected and was met with full preparedness.87
In the period of uncertainty before the armistice terms were signed,
official and press sources in Britain argued that the armistice request
could be a ruse. The dishonourable nature of the terms would bolster
French morale and allow France to continue the struggle. Trying to pre-
pare for the possibilities that France could exit or remain in the conflict
resulted in a series of contradictory and often oscillating policies. British
officials were reluctant to endorse General de Gaulle in his plans to form
a French movement in opposition to Pétain’s government. De Gaulle
was only allowed to deliver his now famous 18 June declaration calling
for French resisters to join him in London to continue the fight after
Spears lobbied directly to Churchill and individual Cabinet members
on his behalf.88 Britain simultaneously sent no fewer than three missions
83 Churchill, Finest Hour, 157.

84 ‘Faith Still Firm, Mr. Churchill’s Address’, The Times, 18 June 1940, 6.
87 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Last Hours in France, Britain Prepared for the News’,
The Times, 18 June 1940, 6.
88 Jean-Louis Crémieux-Brilhac, La France Libre: De l’Appel du 18 Juin à la Libération
(Paris: Gallimard, 1996), 49.

to Bordeaux to assess the likelihood of a continued relationship with the

metropolitan government.89
Hesitations over whether to recognise de Gaulle as the leader of an
opposition movement were also influenced by the attitudes of individual
French and British officials who encountered him. Cadogan did not like
de Gaulle. Robert Vansittart, the former head of the Foreign Office and
now Chief Diplomatic Advisor to the government, oscillated between
uncertainty and grudging support. The Foreign Office found de Gaulle’s
plans and approach annoying: ‘il est trop pressé et il en fait trop’.90
Morand, who would choose to remain loyal to the metropolitan govern-
ment, summarised attitudes towards de Gaulle amongst French diplo-
matic personnel: ‘les uns disant: c’est un général factieux et sans mandate,
les autres répondant: voilà un homme qui a le sens de l’honneur’.91 Jean
Monnet, who had worked with de Gaulle on the Franco-British union
proposal, would become one of de Gaulle’s most notable French oppo-
nents. French Ambassador Charles Corbin and Alexis Leger, the former
head of the French Foreign Office, would appeal to the British govern-
ment that de Gaulle was an unknown entity and therefore not a credible
leader for a French movement abroad.92 De Gaulle’s decision to flee to
London flew in the face of French republican traditions, which made
exile synonymous with betrayal. His refusal to remain loyal to Pétain, a
venerated hero of France, also did nothing to increase his popularity.93
Predictably, official declarations from the French metropole invali-
dated de Gaulle’s address and his position in London as having no asso-
ciation with the French government.94 And British officials remained
unwilling to scuttle relations with the metropolitan government just
yet. After de Gaulle’s 18 June speech, the British government adopted a
‘wait and see’ approach. At the first meeting of the Vansittart Commit-
tee on 21 June, which was formed with the goal of coordinating contin-
ued French resistance, the committee members95 agreed that de Gaulle
should not be permitted to make any further broadcasts.96 De Gaulle,
89 Julian Jackson, A Certain Idea of France: The Life of Charles de Gaulle (London:
Penguin, 2018), 126–127.
90 Crémieux-Brilhac, La France Libre, 51.
91 Morand, Journal de Guerre, 248.
92 Jackson, A Certain Idea of France, 133, 135. Charlotte Faucher has also highlighted
the existence of anti-Gaullist sentiment in London. See Charlotte Faucher, ‘From
Gaullist to Anti-Gaullism: Denis Saurat and the French Cultural Institute in Wartime
London’, Journal of Contemporary History 54, no. 1 (2019): 60–81.
94 ‘Après l’allocution radiodiffusée du général de Gaulle’, Le Temps, 19–21 June 1940, 3.
95 Members included: Vansittart, Spears, Strang, Morton and Speight.
96 ‘Vansittart Committee’, 21 June 1940, GB165-0269 Box 1 File 3, Middle East Centre
Archive [henceforth MECA].

not yet willing to be accused of unqualified dissidence, was also covering

his own tracks. He wrote a series of letters to General Weygand and the
French Military Attaché in London portraying himself as a loyal officer
ready to return to France when ordered.97
After the news reached London that Pétain had signed armistice terms
on 22 June, de Gaulle would be allowed to broadcast for the second
time that evening.98 De Gaulle’s early addresses had very few listeners.
Churchill’s ‘Finest Hour’ address, also delivered on 18 June, overshad-
owed de Gaulle’s initial message. This does not mean that de Gaulle’s
words were insignificant. On the contrary, they were important because
they moved decisively away from Pétain’s government. They proposed
an alternate French policy and situated French sovereignty and French
interests with de Gaulle rather than the metropolitan government. Julian
Jackson points out that what matters is that the speech was made: ‘All
de Gaulle’s future action – what he would later call his “legitimacy” –
derived from that moment’.99
Uncertainty and confusion also impacted how policy was being made
and communicated within the French metropole. Without access to
daily newspapers, radio statements took on new importance. Pétain and
Baudouin’s justifications for requesting terms at times contradicted each
other causing further confusion about France’s future in the conflict.
Pétain made his initial radio broadcast without the consent of his min-
isters. In it, he stated, ‘The fighting must cease’. After the broadcast,
the printed text was changed to read, ‘We must try to cease the fight-
ing’.100 The original text was altered largely to avoid confusion amongst
the armed forces, who were still fighting. However, it also reflected the
uncertainty amongst French ministers regarding whether armistice terms
would be accepted and whether a French government would proceed to
the empire to continue the struggle. Pétain made a second address on
20 June in which he announced that plenipotentiaries had been selected
to hear the German terms. This communication also made no mention
of the possibility of resuming the struggle. It stated that the dire mili-
tary situation, a product of the numerical inferiority of French material
and men, made the request for armistice terms inevitable. Going further,
it called for a renewed spirit of sacrifice in order to rebuild France.101
Reconstruction could not take place without first accepting defeat and
signing an armistice.
97 Jackson, A Certain Idea of France, 131.

99 Jackson, A Certain Idea of France, 130.
100 Griffiths, Marshal Pétain, 240.
101 Pétain, Paroles, 13–14.

Pétain’s rhetoric was sometimes at odds with information that was

being given to the British and even in some cases to the French public.
After meeting with Pétain and Baudouin, First Lord Alexander reported
to Churchill that he had received verbal assurances that the French would
not accept dishonourable terms. He was also given the impression that the
struggle was likely to be resumed. Baudouin’s 17 June broadcast argued
in a similar vein. It asserted that the current situation faced by the armed
forces made it necessary to inquire as to the intentions of Germany before
considering final defensive measures.102 ‘More than at any time in the
national history, this mingling of our sufferings and of our determinations
assures the maintenance of the nobility and of the purity of the civilisation
of France’.103 However, Alexander expressed disdain for Pétain and dis-
trust over his and his cabinet’s intentions. He described the new Premier
as ‘obviously very old and finding it difficult to connect’.104
At the same time, telegrams were arriving in Bordeaux from French
North Africa and the Levant promising continued assistance and urging
officials to renew the struggle from abroad. On 17 and 18 June, Gen-
eral Charles Noguès, the commander-in-chief of French North Africa,
informed Weygand and Pétain that French and indigenous populations
in North Africa were united in their opposition to an armistice. Noguès
also received promises of military, financial and economic aid from
British Consul Generals in Alger, Tunis and Rabat and General Clive
Gerard Liddell, the governor of Gibraltar.105 The British Cabinet were
hopeful that French imperial officials in North Africa and the Middle
East would reject the armistice terms.106 As long as possibilities like this
remained on the table, British decision-makers would keep de Gaulle
at arm’s length. But Pétain and his new cabinet refused to commit to
an evacuation plan, despite assurances from Noguès that French North
Africa was well placed to carry on the battle.107 Any sense of urgency
to set up a French government in the empire faded further after junior
minister Raphaël Alibert falsely declared that the Germans had not yet
crossed the Loire. Government ministers were, on the basis of this infor-
mation, instructed to remain in Bordeaux.108 Pétain’s addresses, which
would focus on explaining the defeat and criticising the moral decay
102 Speech Broadcast by Baudouin, 18 June 1940, FO 371/24348, TNA.

103 Baudouin, Diaries, 120.
104 ‘Note prepared of interviews at Bordeaux’, 19 June 1940, PREM 3/174/4, TNA.
105 André Truchet, ‘L’Armistice de Juin 1940 et l’Afrique du Nord’, Revue d’histoire de la
Deuxième Guerre Mondiale 1, no. 3 (June 1951): 35–37.
107 Truchet, ‘L’Armistice de Juin 1940’, 39.

that had been rampant in the interwar years, cast a long shadow on the
idea of further resistance, even if the French Cabinet remained divided
over the issue. Nevertheless, British policy was conceptualised under the
assumption that continued resistance was still possible.
We know that uncertainty over how France would respond to the armi-
stice terms impacted British policy and led to the suppression of further
broadcasts by de Gaulle. The British press also speculated over the possi-
bility that Pétain’s ministry would reject the armistice terms and continue
to fight. These conjectures divided French sentiment into two camps:
defeatists and resistors. These categories would be replicated in British
and Free French rhetoric after the Franco-German armistice was con-
cluded. For the time being, however, the British press focussed upon Brit-
ain’s resolve to continue the struggle and refrained from criticising the
French. The announcement that France was enquiring about armistice
terms influenced British predictions about how the conflict would develop
in the future. But these predictions occupied a spectrum of possible out-
comes, of which a French withdrawal from the fighting was only one.
Recall that when Pétain’s request for armistice terms became pub-
lic, there was little surprise expressed either in official rhetoric or pub-
lic sentiment. The armistice request was not viewed as decisive proof
that France would exit the struggle. Intelligence reports described reac-
tions amongst the British public as displaying ‘confusion and shock, but
hardly surprise’.109 First Sea Lord Dudley Pound assumed that the armi-
stice terms would be invalidated by a request to surrender the French
fleet and that this would allow the French to terminate the conference
and resume fighting.110 By 20 June, the British press was asserting that
opposition to surrender was growing amongst the French population.
This claim was increasingly at odds with Pétain’s own explanations of
the reasons for defeat. An article in The Guardian accused the Pétain
government of suppressing the publication of favourable news, such as
increases in war material being supplied by the United States.111 As late
as 21 June Foreign Minister Lord Halifax met with French Ambassador
Charles Corbin, where he was told that public opinion in France was
gaining strength to continue the fight.112
In sharp contrast to Corbin’s optimism, Pétain’s 20 June broadcast
explained the reason for the defeat as ‘too few children, too few arms, too
110 Pound to Churchill, 18 June 1940, FO 371/24311, TNA.
111 ‘Our London Correspondence: France’, The Guardian, 20 June 1940, 4. R. Campbell
to Foreign Office, 21 June 1940, FO 371/24311, TNA.

few allies’.113 His words provided little scope to continue the struggle. He
argued that material shortages had led to France’s military collapse while
simultaneously tracing the root of these shortcomings to widespread
interwar decadence. Victory in 1918, Pétain argued, created a nation in
which ‘the spirit of pleasure has prevailed over the spirit of sacrifice’.114
The British press was quick to criticise Pétain’s perceived defeatism. The
Times published a critique of his address, arguing that Pétain’s speech
was ‘calculated to take the heart out of the French people’ and to justify
the request for an armistice.115 British publications persisted in claim-
ing that France might still reject the armistice terms. However, it was
possible to detect a growing tendency to understand the struggle as an
exclusively British one. More and more articles turned their attention to
the defence of fortress Britain rather than the possibility of continued
French aid. Corbin reported on 21 June that the British press contained
little news about France and focussed instead on the British effort and
the evolution of American opinion.116
Although there was little outright criticism of the French between 17
and 21 June, and indeed a great deal of pity for their current plight,
there was a noticeable shift in how the war was conceptualised.117 It
was increasingly interpreted as a British war. A South London shop-
keeper wrote that the public displayed a ‘quiet steady confidence: we
fight alone’.118 Resolve attached to these sentiments indicated a growing
disinterest for the French dilemma. Intelligence reports went as far as
warning, ‘the latency of anti-French feeling must never be forgotten. A
few days ago sympathy swamped it but it found indirect expression in
a common phrase “At last we have no Allies, now we fight alone”’.119
These images of Britain, isolated and alone, however, existed alongside
others that sought to give continuity to the Franco-British alliance. This
would be achieved by casting Britain as France’s saviour from Nazi dom-
ination and de Gaulle’s Free French movement as the gatekeeper of the
true spirit and sovereignty of France and Franco-British cooperation.
On 21 June, twenty-seven French parliamentarians boarded the ship
Massilia. They were bound for French North Africa, where they hoped
to continue the struggle from abroad. However, when they arrived in
113 ‘Too Few Children, Too Few Arms, Too Few Allies’, The Guardian, 21 June 1940, 7.
114 Ibid.
115 ‘French Envoys Hear Hitler’s Terms’, The Times, 21 June 1940, 6.
116 Corbin to Bordeaux, 21 June 1940, 9GMII/24, MAE.
117 ‘Relation sommaire de la situation à Londres du 17 Juin au 20 Juillet’, 10GMII/291,
MAE.
118 Mass Observation Diary 5039.3, 17 June 1940, MOA.

Casablanca on 24 June, they discovered that their voyage had been in

vain. Two days earlier, on the evening of 22 June, General Charles Hunt-
ziger had signed a Franco-German armistice in the forest of Compiègne,
in the same rail carriage in which General Foch had presented his own
terms to the Germans in 1918. The Franco-German armistice went into
effect on 25 June at 12:35 a.m., following the negotiation of a separate
Franco-Italian agreement. When British representatives Lord Gort and
Duff Cooper arrived in Rabat on the 27 June to meet with the opponents
of the armistice imprisoned on the Massilia, Noguès turned them away.
Noguès, despite his earlier claims that all of North Africa wanted to con-
tinue the war, was worried about the local response should he allow those
on the Massilia to disembark.120 A lack of resources (coal and oil) and
industrial infrastructure meant that North Africa would have struggled
to effectively support a resistance army.121 In any case, the feasibility of
carrying on the conflict from North Africa was never tested. The ques-
tion of continued resistance from the French Empire ended as colonial
administrators in the Levant, French West Africa and North Africa rallied
to Pétain’s government. It is possible that British interference influenced
these decisions to remain loyal to the metropolitan government.122
In the period following the signature of the armistice and leading up to
the British bombardments of the French fleet in early July, British rheto-
ric recast the struggle as one in which the French population was firmly
opposed to the Pétain government’s policies. This distinction, along-
side British representations of themselves as the guardians of civilisation,
would be key themes in British rhetoric throughout the struggle. Simi-
larly, de Gaulle would defend his decision to go to London as essential
for defending French honour. His aim, from 1940 onwards, was to build
an organisation that would be accepted as the legitimate authority of
France and French interests. British and Free French operations carried
out against French colonial territories were justified using the argument
that metropolitan France and its government was no longer an indepen-
dent and sovereign nation. Pétain’s government would challenge these
claims, basing its legitimacy and right to rule on the maintenance of
these same colonial territories.
120 Chantal Metzger, Le Maghreb dans la Guerre 1939–1945 (Malakoff: Armand Colin,
2018), 87. For more on the responses of nationalist leaders and the broader popula-
tion to the armistice in French North Africa, see Ibid, 83–93.
121 Christine Levisse-Touzé, ‘L’Afrique du Nord pendant la Seconde Guerre Mondiale’,
Relations Internationales no. 77 (Spring 1994): 10. On 22 June, Noguès reported that he
had sufficient munitions to carry out operations for two months. He urged Weygand
to send as many troops and materials as possible. Truchet, ‘L’Armistice’, 39.

No Longer a French Government

After the Franco-German armistice went into effect, British political
intelligence summaries expressed frustration over the events of late June.
Pétain was depicted as ‘a hopelessly broken weed’, and his new govern-
ment was accused of perverting the offer of Franco-British union into ‘a
purely selfish intention to absorb France and her empire into that of Brit-
ain’.123 In the week that followed the conclusion of armistice terms, Brit-
ish and French policy-makers were deciding how to justify and explain
what had happened over the last two months. They were also indicat-
ing a path forward for their respective nations. Official rhetoric was a
vital tool in this process. It was used to garner public support for two
very different visions of the future. British and French rhetoric also com-
peted for American support. For Britain, this meant demonstrating its
resolve in the continuing war effort. For France, this meant justifying the
Franco-German armistice as a necessary precursor to French renewal.
On 23 June, American radio reports broadcast across Britain confirmed
that France had accepted Germany’s armistice terms. Churchill’s own
address, recorded the night of 22/23 June, expressed ‘grief and amaze-
ment’ at this decision. These words triggered French objections because
they suggested that the armistice had been concluded against popular
support to continue the war. Baudouin voiced his particular displea-
sure over Churchill’s promises to remain true to the cause of the French
people, despite the actions of their government.124 Pétain also began to
criticise British statements that divided French opinion from the metro-
politan government. After the signing of the Franco-German armistice,
British rhetoric developed around two claims. First, official statements
and media responses argued that Britain, now continuing the struggle
alone, had retained the moral high ground. The narratives of inevitable
victory that had played such a pivotal role in the Franco-British alliance
were reconstructed to fit the idea of a gallant British struggle that would
end with France’s rescue. Second, the Franco-German armistice was
described as dishonourable and unrepresentative of French public opin-
ion.125 On the other hand, Pétain relied upon messages of reconstruction,
renewal and rebirth to shore up the legitimacy of the new government.
This rhetoric sought to explain the inevitability of defeat, rather than vic-
tory. And it argued that French sovereignty remained intact, safeguarded
by France’s continuing control of its fleet and empire.
123 Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 2 July 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA.

125 Claims that the German terms were contrary to French honour focussed on the
French fleet, which British decision-makers believed had been left open to German
infiltration and seizure.

No Longer a French Government 45
The armistice terms met none of Pétain’s criteria for refusal. Rather,
they had been carefully crafted by the Germans to avoid giving France
cause to resume the conflict. British portrayals of the agreement as dis-
honourable were important, however, particularly from a symbolic point
of view. They challenged the moral basis upon which Pétain’s gov-
ernment had concluded the armistice. Questioning the legitimacy of
the armistice terms was also a way to undermine Pétain’s government
more broadly. General de Gaulle was rapidly becoming central to this
approach, fashioned as the authentic voice of France. De Gaulle’s 18
June address had claimed that French sovereignty was no longer synony-
mous with the metropole. Speaking from London, he said ‘I … am con-
scious of speaking in the home of France’.126 French Jurist René Cassin,
who joined de Gaulle in London, recalled this exchange with the General
at their first meeting on 29 June. To Cassin’s remark that French fighters
must be thought of as the French army and not a foreign legion in the
British army, de Galle responded, ‘We are France’.127 De Gaulle’s radio
addresses on 22 and 23 June called on Frenchmen to join him in disown-
ing the Franco-German armistice. They precipitated a concerned tele-
gram from French Charge d’Affaires Roger Cambon. Writing to Pétain’s
government, by now housed in Bordeaux, Cambon expressed his con-
cern that France and Britain were at risk of becoming mired in a war
of words.128 Indeed, an important goal of French rhetoric was to chal-
lenge British criticisms and assert the continued sovereignty of the French
nation and empire against British and Gaullist arguments to the contrary.
French analyses of the British political and press response to the sign-
ing of the armistice were quick to note that British rhetoric was mov-
ing in a new direction. Churchill’s statement had directly challenged the
legitimacy of the agreement and the current government. It argued that
acceptance of the terms could not have been made by a government that
‘possessed freedom, independence and constitutional authority’.129 The
War Cabinet likewise condemned the armistice terms as dishonourable,
arguing that the agreement was made under duress and left France inca-
pable of acting as a free and sovereign nation.130 Statements broadcast
in French and English via the BBC on 23 June argued that Pétain’s gov-
ernment had not only broken the 28 March agreement not to conclude
a separate armistice, it had also signed away its remaining agency to
126 Charles de Gaulle, Discours et Messages Pendant le Guerre Juin 1940-Janvier 1946
(Paris: Plon, 1970), 18 June 1940.
128 Cambon to Bordeaux, 29 June 1940, 9GMII/295, MAE.
129 ‘France Is Not Dead’, The Times, 24 June 1940, 6.

Germany. The armistice thus deprived Pétain’s government of the ‘right

to represent free French citizens’.131
The armistice terms were also described across the British press as
wholly dishonourable. The Times depicted them as exacting ‘the complete
capitulation of France’.132 Even though the United States had granted offi-
cial recognition to the Vichy government, the article claimed that French
‘independence’ was a mockery ‘realized nowhere more acutely than in the
United States’.133 Ongoing concern regarding the future of the French
fleet and empire resurfaced with the publication of terms on 24 June.
Under the agreement, the British press lamented, ‘France will be entirely
powerless’.134 Cambon wrote to his government warning that the British
press was citing protests against the armistice within the French Empire
as a way to underline its unpopularity.135 Meanwhile, both print and
radio broadcasts referred to the metropolitan government as ‘the Pétain
government’, signalling that it did not represent the authentic France.136
These depictions of Pétain’s government appeared to echo British popu-
lar sentiment. Public opinion analyses conducted by the MOI concluded
‘at all levels of society the opinion is bitterly and vigorously expressed that
the French people have been betrayed by “the politicians”’.137 Attempts
to claim that (what would become) the Vichy government was illegal were
tenuous at best. However, in 1940, they were central to efforts to build
public support around the ongoing British war effort and a reconstituted
Franco-British alliance under the leadership of Charles de Gaulle.138
The fact that the terms of the armistice were not published in France
until 25 June gave British media outlets a new source of criticism. Fol-
lowing the news that an armistice had been signed with Italy, The Guard-
ian stressed the dishonour of the agreement, commenting ‘the Bordeaux
Government, for understandable reasons, has not made known the
nature of the German terms to the French people’.139 The article made
it clear that a minority of duplicitous and defeatist men stood in the way
of a population anxious to continue the struggle. This idea was central
131 France Libre, Dossier 2, 23 June 1940, AG/3(1)/257, AN.

132 ‘Hitler’s Terms for an Armistice Accepted’, The Times, 24 June 1940, 6.
133 ‘Stricken France’, The Times, 25 June 1940, 7. The Vichy government was also offi-
cially recognised by Canada, the Soviet Union and the Vatican.
134 ‘The Terms’, The Guardian, 24 June 1940, 4.
135 Cambon to Bordeaux, ‘Presse Anglaise’, 24 June 1940, 10GMII/331, MAE.
136 ‘Relation sommaire de la situation à Londres’, 17 June-20 July 1940, 10GMII/291,
MAE. ‘Presse anglaise du 23 Juin 1940’, 23 June 1940, 10GMII/331, MAE.
138 Jackson, The Dark Years, 133–136.
139 ‘The Armistice’, The Guardian, 25 June 1940, 4; also Diplomatic Correspondent,
‘French People in the Dark’, The Times, 25 June 1940, 6.

to the message of a David Low cartoon published on 26 June in The

Guardian and The Evening Standard. In it, Hitler lounged on an imposing
throne. A ‘role of honour’ was hanging to his left naming Vidkun Quis-
ling of Norway, King Leopold of Belgium and the ‘Men of Bordeaux’.
These men were represented by three figures, which were bowing so
low in subservience to Hitler that their faces were obscured. However,
over them, striking a proud Napoleonic pose was a French soldier with
the word ‘France’ emblazoned on his overcoat.140 More blatant state-
ments regarding the armistice as ‘a betrayal of the French people’ and
‘the handful of men’ who surrendered French honour fanned the flame
of Franco-British tensions.141 The wealth of research surrounding the
chaos that accompanied the refugee crisis throughout France and the
immediate relief that met the announcement of a cessation in hostili-
ties belies such sentiments.142 What is clear is that British rhetoric in
the aftermath of the armistice request created a framework in which the
decisions of the French government and the ‘the men of Vichy’ were
decisively separated from French public sentiment.
British and Gaullist rhetoric also discredited the Franco-German and
to a lesser extent the Franco-Italian armistice by arguing that neither
Germany nor Italy could be relied upon to keep its word. The Italians,
who had been allocated a small occupation zone around Menton and
Savoie, a few thousand prisoners of war and no occupation indemni-
ties, were treated more as a minor annoyance, rather than an organic
threat.143 De Gaulle, in his 26 June BBC French address, asked how
France was expected ‘to rise again from beneath the German jack-boot
and the Italian dancing-slipper’.144 The Foreign Office suggested por-
traying the Italians as duplicitous and sneaky in press and public state-
ments. Publicity could argue that although the terms appeared to be
lenient, Italian intentions were to first demilitarise any zones of interest
and then take control of them completely during peace negotiations.145
140 David Low, ‘Low on the Surrender of France’, The Manchester Guardian, 26 June
1940, 6.
141 Former Paris Correspondent, ‘The Riddle of the French Capitulation: Pétain and
the Men Behind Him’, The Guardian, 25 June 1940, 4. ‘Britain and France’, The
Guardian, 26 June 1940, 4.
142 Hannah Diamond, Fleeing Hitler, France 1940 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008).
Jackson, The Dark Years. Jackson, The Fall of France. Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France:
Old Guard and New Order 1940–1944 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972).
143 Karine Varley, ‘Vichy and the Complexities of Collaborating with Fascist Italy:
French Policy and Perceptions between June 1940 and March 1942’, Modern &
Contemporary France 21, no. 3 (2013): 319.
144 ‘De Gaulle to Pétain: Who Is Responsible?’ The Guardian, 27 June 1940, 7.
145 ‘Italian Armistice Terms to France, Suggested Line for Publicity in Press and
Wireless’, 26 June 1940, FO 371/24348, TNA.

In the French metropole, Pétain’s government responded directly to

British interpretations of the Franco-German armistice. Broadcasting from
Bordeaux on 23 June, Pétain protested in the name of the French govern-
ment against Churchill’s accusations that there was a difference of opinion
between the views of the nation and the government that was leading it.146
He alluded to the renewal of French greatness, which would be achieved
through the courage and perseverance of its people. Referencing again mate-
rial shortages that had hindered the French war effort, Pétain constructed a
broader rationale for the armistice. France had simply been outnumbered
on every front, and the only logical choice was to relent and begin to rebuild
the nation from those new foundations. It was possible, Pétain argued, to
create a new and better France even from the ruins of a military defeat.
The Bordeaux government also issued a ‘painful’ note of complaint, which
Corbin refused to deliver. Cambon delivered the note in his place. In it, the
newly formed government protested against ‘the terms used by the Prime
Minister’ as he sought to separate French public opinion from the actions
of Pétain’s government.147 French official and media responses claimed that
Churchill was acting in bad faith by criticising the current government for
a decision that he himself had agreed was necessary before 17 June. L’Echo
d’Alger published an article entitled ‘L’Attitude Anglaise’ laying out the dates
that Britain had been told that it was likely that France would have to put
down its arms. The first warning was listed as 20 May.148
The perceived importance of American opinion and the assump-
tion that it would eventually become a full participant in the struggle
also shaped rhetorical strategies on both sides of the Channel. French
publications in the United States accused Britain of failing to mobilise
men and resources during the conflict: ‘It was obvious that Britain had
believed more in the blockade than in the provision of material assis-
tance to her Ally’.149 A Foreign Office note suggested countering this
kind of negative French propaganda by arguing that British victory was
a certainty. But it warned against engaging in petty criticisms of French
military failures. Instead, why not land ‘a few tough British marines in
France’ to kill a few Germans? Such a sensational story would be worth
‘hours of drawing-room gossip and backstairs chat’.150 Plans like this
146 French Broadcast from Bordeaux, 23 June 1940, PREM 3/174/4, TNA. Pétain,
Paroles, 13. ‘Le Maréchal Pétain Répond à M. Winston Churchill’, Le Temps, 25 June
1940, 1. Francisque Laurent, ‘Stupeur Attristée’, L’Echo d’Alger, 25 June 1940, 1.
148 ‘L’Attitude Anglaise’, L’Echo d’Alger, 26 June 1940, 1.
150 Foreign Office note on countering French propaganda in the United States, 28 June
1940, FO 371/24311, TNA.

were part of a conscious effort to shape opinion through rhetoric as well

as symbolic, but strategically ineffective, action. What was important
was to create the perception that Britain was still capable of taking deci-
sive steps against the enemy.
During this period, however, British policy-makers did not intend for
relations with the Bordeaux government to be completely severed even
if they remained outwardly strained. Rhetorical condemnations, in other
words, did not rule out backdoor diplomacy. One scholar has argued
that after the Franco-German armistice was signed, ‘the British govern-
ment lost all sensitivity to metropolitan French opinion’.151 However,
this is inaccurate. While British officials would consistently criticise the
Vichy government throughout the war, they were very careful to avoid
implicating the broader French population and Pétain, who they knew
still commanded a great deal of respect amongst a majority of citizens.
Even French observations of British opinion at the time concluded that
the British public still held the people of France in high regard and rec-
ognised the extent of their suffering.152
Fashioning de Gaulle as the representative of legitimate French inter-
ests was a way to align French opinion with the British war effort and
sideline Pétain’s government. But even after it was known that the Bor-
deaux Government would accept German armistice terms, de Gaulle’s
leadership was not a foregone conclusion. In de Gaulle’s third broadcast,
delivered on the evening of 23 June, he stated his intention to set up a
provisional French National Committee in cooperation with the British
government. This body would express the true will of France. It was
a direct challenge to the validity of the Bordeaux government. Corbin
complained to Halifax that de Gaulle should not have been allowed
to deliver his message. He also requested that a British declaration in
French supporting de Gaulle’s statement be kept out of the press.153
Corbin, Monnet and Alexis Léger, the former secretary general of the
French Foreign Office, argued that a Committee formed in London by
a little-known French general would be no more independent than the
Bordeaux government.154 These sentiments were not entirely out of line
with British policy at the time. The War Cabinet remained reluctant to
give its unconditional support to de Gaulle. British officials felt that a
better known and more qualified candidate might still emerge.
151 Desmond Dinan, The Politics of Persuasion: British Policy and French African Neutrality,
1940–1942 (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1988), 24.
153 British Statement in French, 23 June 1940, PREM 3/174/3, TNA.

On 24 June, Halifax instructed the press not to publish the planned

communiqué, which would have given official government recognition
to the National Committee. At the same time, imperial leaders in the
French Empire were also deciding what path to take. Although they
were influenced by Maxime Weygand and others who remained loyal
to Pétain, individual decision-making was still a major factor in explain-
ing why most of the French Empire did not condemn the armistice.
When, two days later, it had become clear that the French Empire would
not unite to condemn the armistice. De Gaulle proposed, in place of
a National Committee, a French committee, or legion. Left with few
options, Churchill and the British government finally recognised de
Gaulle as ‘leader of all the Free French wherever they might be’ on 28
June, but only after being pressured by the Vansittart Committee.155
Even after recognising de Gaulle, the British government still hoped to
preserve relations with the Bordeaux government.
The British government’s relationship with de Gaulle would be for-
malised through an exchange of letters, which culminated in a memoran-
dum of agreement on 7 August. The agreement placed de Gaulle at the
head of the Free French forces and provided British financial support for
the movement.156 After receiving official recognition, de Gaulle did begin
to consolidate his role as the chief representative of France’s ongoing war
effort. However, his calls urging Frenchmen to join him in continuing the
struggle were not very successful. A week after his 18 June address, only a
few hundred volunteers had come forward.157 His second, 22 June broad-
cast, delivered after the decision to accept the armistice terms was made
public, described France as having been reduced to a state of slavery.
Still, few rallied to his call.158 The significance of de Gaulle’s movement,
however, should not be measured solely by the number of its recruits.
An important aim of British and Free French rhetoric was to pre-
serve the idea of Franco-British cooperation and prepare for a future in
which France would play a role as a victor nation. The harsh criticism
that had accompanied King Leopold’s capitulation a month earlier was
largely absent from British depictions of the French armistice. Instead,
Churchill’s 25 June Commons address called for Britain to focus upon
the task ahead, in order to rescue France ‘from the ruin and bondage
155 ‘Vansittart Committee’, 28 June 1940, GB165-0269 Box 1 File 3, MECA. Jackson,
A Certain Idea of France, 136–137.
156 ‘Memorandum of Agreement’, June 1940, FO 371/24340, TNA.
157 Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs of Charles de Gaulle, vol. 1, The Call to
Honour, trans. Jonathan Griffin (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1955), 88.
158 ‘Submission to Slavery: Plea to Frenchmen, General de Gaulle’s Broadcast’, The
Guardian, 24 June 1940, 6.

into which she has been cast by the might and fury of the enemy’.159
The construction of the Franco-British relationship as one that remained
valid, so long as the Pétain government was excluded, was an important
assumption of British and Gaullist rhetoric in the following years, and
indeed, in the post-war years as well. It was premised on the notion that
no matter who claimed to lead the French nation, the legitimate France
remained tied to the aims and goals of Britain. Pétain’s address, also
made on 25 June, betrayed just how differently each side conceptual-
ised the defeat. While Churchill’s speech focussed upon the inevitability
of victory, Pétain’s outlined rational statistics, which made defeat inevi-
table. In sharp contrast to Churchill’s moral tones, Pétain argued ‘that
victory is dependent upon men, material and how they are used’.160
The French defeat led to a crisis of legitimation over who and what rep-
resented the ‘true’ French nation. The notion of a legitimate France was
being constructed and contested from the moment of the defeat. These
competing images can help to move the focus away from our knowledge
of how the war would end. Interpretations of wartime sentiment too
often make conclusions based upon the understanding that Allied vic-
tory was forthcoming. Peter Mangold wrote, ‘Britain’s final advantage
over its ally was moral. Unlike France, the crisis of June 1940, pulled the
British together, producing a climate of defiance’.161 The moral rhetoric
that surrounded the British struggle should not be used to explain why
Britain won. The myths and memories that grew stronger in the after-
math of the war ‘were as much a consequence as a cause of victory’.162
Churchill’s memoirs abound with arguments that ‘German thorough-
ness’ was no match for ‘British pluck’, examples of how retrospective
and historically grounded assumptions can carry on masquerading as
logical argument.163
In June 1940, the withdrawal of French forces shifted the military land-
scape in fundamental ways. British and French policy-makers responded
to these changes, not least of all by redefining each nation’s role inside
or outside of the struggle. And they fashioned their wartime narratives
to fit these positions. Roger Cambon observed this process from the
French embassy in London. He linked ongoing confidence in Britain
159 Hansard HC Deb vol. 362 col. 302 (25 June 1940) http://hansard.millbanksystems
.com/commons/1940/jun/25/war-situation#column_302. Notably at this point in
his address, an MP interrupted to shout ‘and by the politicians’.
160 Pétain, Paroles, 16.
161 Peter Mangold, Britain and the Defeated French: From Occupation to Liberation, 1940–
1944 (London: I. B. Tauris, 2012), 7.
163 Churchill, Finest Hour, 322.

to ignorance regarding the battle to come and the prevalence of imag-

ery celebrating ‘la citadelle britannique’.164 Churchill made references to
Britain as an impenetrable island fortress in the immediate aftermath of
the armistice request, yet he also tried to broaden the base of the con-
flict. His address on 17 June described the war as a ‘world cause’, whose
next battle would be the defence of ‘our island home’.165 Likewise, Duff
Cooper’s 19 June BBC broadcast drove home the advantages of this
new phase of the conflict. ‘We are nearly all inside the fortress now – the
fortress is well defended and well supplied and will hold out until the
efforts of the enemy are exhausted’.166 Heroic statements that assured
an ultimate victory were at the core of British rhetoric in the aftermath
of the French defeat and throughout the war years. Ernest Bevin’s over-
seas broadcast on 23 June bestowed the upcoming battle with all of the
trappings of historical greatness and triumph. At this ‘critical moment in
world history’, the Commonwealth would stand between ‘tyranny and
liberty’ and will ultimately triumph.167 The necessity of resistance was
constructed upon the premise that being on the ‘right’ side was a precur-
sor to and an assurance of victory.
Planning for the defence of Britain, however, was only one part of a
much more complex picture. The fall of France also brought empire to
the forefront of the battle.168 Defending metropolitan Britain from what
was thought to be imminent invasion was a top priority. But the war
that Britain now faced was an imperial war. Egypt and the Suez Canal
were under direct Italian threat, and British eastern territories, including
Malaya and Singapore stared down the barrel of Japanese encroachment.
There was also a strong tradition of securing Commonwealth support
from wealthy, westernised and Anglophilic countries including Canada,
Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, giving Britain access to essen-
tial resources. The support provided by these nations as well as India
(between May and November 1940, the Indian army doubled in size)169
in material and manpower were vital considerations that allowed Britain
to continue pursuing the struggle against the Axis powers. For the Bor-
deaux government and de Gaulle’s Free French movement, the French

165 Robert Rhodes James, ed., Winston S. Churchill: His Complete Speeches, 1897–1963,
vol. 6 (New York: Chelsea House Publishers, 1974), 6231. ‘Mr. Churchill’s Message’,
The Times, 17 June 1940, 6.
166 BBC News Broadcast on French Defeat, 19 June 1940, DUFC 8/2/17, CCAC.
167 Overseas Transmission IV, 23 June, 1940, BEVN II 1/1, CCAC.
168 John Darwin, The Empire Project: The Rise and Fall of the British World System, 1830–
1970 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 499.
169 Ibid., 505.

Conclusion 53
Empire could confer legitimacy and sovereignty. In the middle of 1941, a

report from Vichy’s Services de la Propagande would summarise the main
themes of Vichy France’s post-armistice rhetoric. Amongst them was the
assertion that the empire guaranteed that France retained its position as
a great power and the warning that ‘l’histoire prouve que l’Angleterre est
l’ennemi héréditaire de cet empire …’170 As France and Britain began to
adjust to the new status quo, the French fleet and empire began to take
a central role in British, Vichy and Free French policy.
Conclusion
Between the Dunkirk evacuations in late May and the conclusion of the
Franco-German armistice a month later, the Franco-British alliance
transformed in fundamental ways. Each side mobilised to justify its new
position, either inside or outside of the conflict. This chapter established
a framework for understanding how the Franco-British alliance would
evolve over the next five years. The French decision to request an armi-
stice on 17 June set in motion first a tentative and then an increasingly
rapid shift in rhetoric on both sides of the Channel. The messages that
French and British policy-makers deployed through public statements,
newspapers and radio broadcasts told a story about why each nation’s
path was the most correct. These arguments, which would become cen-
tral to Vichy, British and Free French rhetoric throughout the course of
the war, were being formulated, tested and refined in 1940.
Even before Pétain’s government requested armistice terms, Franco-
British cooperation was complex and fraught with uncertainty. At the
outbreak of war, it appeared as though both sides were mobilising
resources for close cooperation. However, Germany’s swift progress
unleashed chaos in the Low Countries and throughout France. Between
15 and 20 June, an estimated 6–8 million refugees flooded French roads
and panicked officials deserted their posts.171 By late May, the possibility
of a French collapse was being weighed up in London behind the closed
doors of the War Cabinet. And it was being considered by the French
Cabinet as it fled from Paris on 10 June to the Château de Cangé in
the Loire and finally, on 14 June, to Bordeaux. It was also the subject
of public debate and rumour in Britain and France. Even so, frays in
the relationship were deliberately kept out of the press in order to avoid
damaging the public’s perception of the partnership, which would cast
doubt on promises of an Allied victory. Nevertheless, although British
170 ‘Guide: Les Thèmes de Propagande’, 1941, F/41/266, AN.

171 Blatt, ‘Introduction’, 2.

official rhetoric made no blatant speculations on the possibility of defeat,

increasing references to the intention to continue the struggle no matter
what happened resonated with the British public in a similar manner. ‘No
matter what’ became an early metaphor for French defeat.
Uncertainty in the initial days after the armistice request led to some
hope, however small, that the French would continue the struggle from
abroad after rejecting the armistice terms as dishonourable. British
rhetoric during this period made it clear that Germany was incapable
of honourable acts, making any agreement unconscionable. The ben-
efits of de Gaulle’s presence in Britain at this point were not immedi-
ately apparent, as British officials sought to balance their relations with
the current Bordeaux government and consolidate support within the
broader French Empire. When the Franco-German armistice was signed
on 22 June, both sides moved rapidly to shore up their positions with
their own publics as well as important neutral territories, most notably
the United States. Pétain’s new government described French defeat
as a product of interwar decadence and material shortages. It promised
renovation and renewal from the ashes of defeat. Political communiqués
reconceptualised France as a neutral territory, which would act without
prejudice to maintain this status.172 The British government continued
to promise victory, and with it, France’s deliverance. It kept the notion
of Franco-British collaboration alive by tying the French public to the
ongoing war effort and offering up de Gaulle as the true voice of French
interests. This was the beginning of a triangular rivalry between British,
Vichy and Gaullist forces, in which competing claims of legitimacy and
national sovereignty were at the heart of the issue. The French Empire
would become the battleground upon which these claims were fought
over, both in rhetoric and in blood.
Why is it so important to understand how British and French wartime
policies were being constructed and communicated in 1940? The ideas
and arguments that were refined in May and June became central to
British, Vichy and Free French strategies for the remainder of the war.
The distinct wartime and post-war visions that each side voiced through
its respective rhetorical strategy also impacted how wider wartime plans
and operations were conceived, implemented and communicated. And
for the victors, the moral tone that saturated wartime decision-making
also occupied the core of post-war explanations for why the war was
won. Nowhere were these arguments more contested than in France’s
colonial empire. Empire became a powerful symbol of French sover-
eignty during the war. And retaining empire became a symbol of French

Conclusion 55
power at the close of war. The following chapters will track the evolu-
tion of these debates from the bombardment of the French fleet to the
armed clashes that accompanied Syrian demands for independence in
1945. In attempting to explain, condemn or justify its policies, each side
would rely upon the framework that it had built in the days after the
armistice, mobilising competing ideas of sovereignty, legitimacy and the
moral stance of their respective paths.

2 ‘The Real Question at Issue’
British Policy and the French Fleet
‘In the fullest harmony with the Dominions we are moving through a
period of extreme danger and of splendid hope when every virtue of our
race will be tested and all that we have and are will be freely staked’.1
Churchill’s words were published across the domestic press on 5 July
1940. They resounded in the aftermath of the British bombardment of
the French fleet at the Algerian port of Mers el-Kébir. Their aim was to
justify Operation Catapult as a ‘necessary tragedy’ carried out against
an erstwhile ally. Official British explanations and local press analyses
avoided discussing the starkly violent nature of the operations against the
fleet. They preferred to press home the symbolic aspects of the opera-
tions. Namely, that Operation Catapult was proof of both the military
and moral superiority of the British war effort. In July 1940, British pol-
icy towards the French fleet allowed policy-makers to take control of the
wartime narrative. British rhetoric would justify the clashes as an exam-
ple of the kind of decisive action that was necessary to ensure the defeat
of the Axis powers and the liberation of France. But these claims were
not uncontested. For Pétain’s Vichy government, the bombardments at
Mers el-Kébir would become the cornerstone of images featuring Britain
as a historic and contemporary threat to French sovereignty.
The clashes that took place on 3 July 1940 between British and French
forces at Mers el-Kébir have been subject to various interpretations on
both sides of the Channel. On the British side, early analyses tended
to vindicate the action. They echoed Churchill’s ‘unfortunate necessity’
rationale – the British simply could not risk the possibility of the French
fleet falling into German or Italian hands. From the French perspec-
tive, the operations have more often been viewed as a betrayal of the
Franco-British alliance and evidence of underlying British self-interest
and historic perfidy. This latter perspective formed the crux of Jacques
1 ‘“Period of Splendid Hope” Mr Churchill on Our Island Strength French Warships in

British Hands’, The Times, 5 July 1940, 2.
56

‘The Real Question at Issue’ 57
Costagliola’s argument. He saw the French as dual victims of both

German and British determination to win the war at any cost.
The Germans were willing to leave to us our ships, however, they demanded
that they return from Britain. On 3 July, they posed an ultimatum: return
them to their ports or the armistice will be void. On the same day, Catapult
put everything into question, in Britain, at Oran, at Alexandria. The Franco-
British war began loudly.2
As more archival materials became accessible in the 1970s, Anglophone
scholarship began to take a more balanced perspective. But it continued
to justify the basis upon which policy towards the fleet had been car-
ried out. Writing on French Admiral François Darlan’s early policies,
Robert Melka argued that the strategic importance of the fleet could not
be ignored. However, he affirmed that Darlan never contemplated hand-
ing the fleet over to Germany. Nor did Hitler consider, prior to the Torch
operations in 1942, taking it by force.3 In any case, the ultimate scuttling
of the French Fleet at Toulon in 1942 showed that French promises not to
allow the fleet to fall into German hands were genuine. Arthur Marder’s
1974 work, From the Dardanelles to Oran, argued, similarly, that Britain
had miscalculated German and Italian intentions towards the fleet. How-
ever, this was of little consequence because Britain simply could not trust
either party to keep its word.4 His analysis took a more pragmatic view
of events, rather than intending to place blame upon one of the actors. It
also framed the context of the decision-making process more realistically,
taking into account how cognitive factors such as trust and uncertainty
would have affected how available options were perceived.
More than sixty years later, the topic of the French fleet and British
policy towards it has continued to generate interest. For Philip Lasterle,
Churchill was the driving force behind Operation Catapult. All other actors
were reluctant bystanders. His focus upon Churchill and the French Admi-
ral at Mers el-Kébir, Marcel-Bruno Gensoul, obscures the wider context
and complexities of the decision-making process. Attempting to determine
whether Mers el-Kébir was avoidable narrows the frame of interpretation
and risks trying to answer a historical ‘what if?’.5 Moreover, comparing
2 Jacques Costagliola, La Guerre Anglo-Française 3 Juillet 1940–11 Novembre 1942: Un

Conflit Parallèle et Tangent à la Seconde Guerre Mondiale (Coulommiers: Daulpha,
2005), 38.
3 Robert L. Melka, ‘Darlan between Britain and Germany 1940–41’, Journal of
Contemporary History, 8, no. 2 (1973): 58.
4 Arthur Marder, From the Dardanelles to Oran (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1974),
288.
5 Philippe Lasterle, ‘Could Admiral Gensoul Have Averted the Tragedy of Mers el-
Kébir?’, The Journal of Military History 67, no. 3 (2003): 836.

the destruction at Mers el-Kébir to the more favourable negotiations at

Alexandria does not account for the complexities inherent in the policy
towards the Vichy French navy and the unique circumstances at each
port. These differences led policy-makers to conclude that hostile action
was acceptable at Mers el-Kébir, but not at Alexandria or Algiers, where
civilian causalities and the destruction of British installations would have
been too damaging. This was a point that John Colville, Private Secre-
tary to Churchill emphasised in his introduction to Warren Tute’s book,
The Deadly Stroke: ‘The War Cabinet reached the only possible conclu-
sion. The ships at Plymouth, Portsmouth and Alexandria presented no
insuperable difficulty … but a wide range of options must be offered to
Admiral Gensoul at Oran’.6 Hervé Coutau-Bégarie and Claude Huan
have pointed out that from a military perspective, the British course of
action was sound.7 Given Britain’s very limited scope for offensive action
at this point, confronting the French fleet was an attractive and feasible
opportunity. Catapult gave British policy-makers the chance to deliver
decisive action at a time when the immediate future of the British war
effort was unclear. In this sense, actions against the fleet were a powerful
symbol. They signalled British resolve in the ongoing conflict to domes-
tic audiences, the new French state and the stubbornly neutral Ameri-
cans. On the other hand, the bombardments gave the Vichy government
a lucrative propaganda tool. As Martin Thomas and Richard Toye have
argued, ‘Mers el-Kébir and Oran would become a shorthand for British
treachery’.8
This and the following chapter build on the notion that Britain’s policy
towards the French fleet extended beyond the sphere of military opera-
tions. In its conception and realisation, Catapult was a product of more
than military capabilities and strategic imperatives. It was planned and
carried out with an eye to how the operation would impact the prestige
and credibility of the British war effort at home and abroad. Rhetoric
played a central role by connecting British actions towards the fleet in
1940 with Britain’s ability to win the war at a future date. The images
and memories that stemmed from this event would also play an impor-
tant role in the war of words that developed between British, Vichy and
6 Warren Tute, The Deadly Stroke (London: Collins, 1973), 16. The two ports of Mers
el-Kébir and Oran were both located outside of the French Algerian town of Oran.
The former was used for military ships while the latter housed commercial ships.
7 Hervé Coutau-Bégarie and Claude Huan, Mers el-Kébir (1940) La Rupture Franco-
Britannique (Paris: Economica, 1994), 108.
8 Martin Thomas and Richard Toye, Arguing About Empire: Imperial Rhetoric in Britain
and France, 1882–1956 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 163.

The Early Significance of the French Fleet 59
Free French forces in the years that followed. Future clashes at Dakar
and in the Levant would be added to a list of British crimes against the
Vichy government, which began at Mers el-Kébir.
Allocating two chapters to Catapult is essential to fully understand the
nuances of the decision-making process. Doing so makes clear how British
policy-makers integrated their expectations of how the public would react
to the operations themselves. Planning for Operation Catapult included
anticipating and managing public responses within Britain as well as fur-
ther afield in France and the United States. Furthermore, policy-makers
emphasised from the beginning how important it was to achieve public
support for these actions and they included dynamic plans to foster this
backing. In other words, the policy-making process, the bombardments
themselves and the rhetoric that justified them were all interdependent.
British thinking about the French fleet included considerations of its mili-
tary capabilities. But it also contained a careful analysis of how a possible
neutralisation of the fleet might be justified. Herein lies the link between
the decisions that were made behind closed doors and the ways in which
those policies were subsequently justified and debated in public. Policy-
making during this period betrayed an early preoccupation with the desire
to translate decisions into convincing press releases and public statements.
This discourse mobilised heroic rhetoric that confirmed British superior-
ity and the certainty of eventual victory. For the Vichy government, the
bombardments became emblematic of Britain’s inherent perfidy. Rather
than a symbol of strength and resolve, they came to embody the mistrust
that had long plagued France and Britain’s historic relationship.
In the initial discussions surrounding the French fleet, there was a
consensus within the War Cabinet and across the Service Ministries that
something should be done to safeguard it for the Allied cause. However,
this sentiment was moderated to account for the need to justify British
actions in a manner that would preserve Britain’s moral superiority and
avoid compromising abiding pro-French sentiment amongst the Brit-
ish public. These concerns impacted how Catapult was conceptualised.
They imposed tangible constraints on the operation, especially in rela-
tion to the use of force. From the outset, British strategists viewed local
and global public support as vital, if intangible, aspects of the broader
conflict.
The Early Significance of the French Fleet

The French fleet and naval affairs more generally played a crucial role in
French and British perceptions of themselves and of one another through-
out the Second World War. This was particularly true immediately after

France withdrew from the conflict. An internal French circular described

the fleet as ‘one of the essential elements of our international situation’.9
For metropolitan France, the fleet was a symbol of prestige, power and
legitimacy. It was the protector of the empire and a hypothetical bargain-
ing chip with the Axis powers.10 The French navy was the most mod-
ernised and least demoralised of all the French armed services. This was
a result of the huge sums of money invested in it between 1922 and 1940
and the fact that in June it remained undefeated.11 Its importance, as
second in size only to the British fleet, was a source of strategic concern
to British policy-makers. To London and the Admiralty, the fleet was
a dangerous liability. Neutralising it would relieve fears that Germany
would take the fleet for itself while also sending a powerful message of
British power. On 23 June, King George VI sent a message to French
President Albert Lebrun. In it, he expressed his concern over the safety
of the French fleet.12 Messages such as this one quickly became a source
of annoyance to the French. The Americans, a report from the French
Foreign Ministry complained, were just as paranoid and pushy as the
British. President Roosevelt had also written, on 16 June, recommend-
ing that the French fleet be sent to British ports as soon as possible.13
Even before the Franco-German and Franco-Italian armistices went
into effect on 25 June, the British were considering how to ensure that
the French fleet did not become a threat. The fate of two modern bat-
tleships, Dunkerque and Strasbourg, was a source of significant anxiety.
These two ships were first mentioned on 15 June in a message from First
Sea Lord Dudley Pound to admirals Andrew Cunningham and Dud-
ley North. This note, authorised by Churchill, suggested using gun and
torpedo fire to destroy the ships in question if they were in immediate
danger of falling into the hands of the enemy.14 At a meeting between
Churchill, Pound and First Lord of the Admiralty A. V. Alexander on 17
June, there was a general discussion regarding ‘the disposal of the French
Fleet which would arise in certain eventualities’.15 The strategic impor-
tance of the fleet only increased after the Franco-German armistice was
9 Brown, The Road to Oran, xxix.

10 P. M. H. Bell, A Certain Eventuality (Scotland: Saxon House, 1974), 38.
11 Chalmers Hood, Royal Republicans: The French Naval Dynasties between the World War
(Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 1985), 142.
12 King Georve VI to Lebrun, 23 June 1940, 10GMII/334, Ministère des Affaires
Étrangères (henceforth MAE).
13 Roosevelt to Lebrun, 16 June 1940, 10GMII/334, MAE.
14 David Brown, The Road to Oran: Anglo-French Naval Relations September 1939–July
1940 (New York: Frank Cass, 2004), 36.
15 Report of a meeting with Churchill, 1st S.L. (Pound) and V.C.N.S., 17 June 1940,
AVAR 5/4/26, Churchill Archive Centre (henceforth CCAC).

The Early Significance of the French Fleet 61
signed. The War Cabinet considered taking action as early as 22 June

to secure Oran as an alternative British naval base to Gibraltar.16 Admi-
ral James Somerville, who led Force H stationed at Gibraltar, was con-
cerned. On 24 June, he noted in his pocket diary, ‘news about French
Fleet not so good’.17 Alexander Cadogan, Permanent Under-Secretary
for Foreign Affairs, highlighted the extent to which questions regarding
the fleet consumed policy-makers in the wake of the collapse. Writing
on 24 June, he reflected on the three Cabinet meetings that had taken
place that day. The majority of the time was spent ‘discussing the awful
problem of the French Fleet’.18
On 26 June, the general conclusion reached by the War Cabinet
(Churchill was absent from this discussion) was that there was little
hope of further French resistance in North Africa or continued naval
participation.19 This realisation prompted Cabinet members to seri-
ously consider possible solutions to neutralise the fleet. In fact, steps had
already been taken to secure the key French ship Richelieu and take it to
a British port for at least the duration of the war. This move was to be
explained to the Captain of the Richelieu as stemming not from British
scepticism of Admiral Darlan’s promises, but rather a rational inability
to depend upon the word of Germany or Italy.20 At the same meeting,
Pound reported upon the situation at Oran. The Admiralty was worried
that Dunkerque and Strasbourg would depart for a French or Italian port
on the north coast of the Mediterranean and had stationed two Brit-
ish submarines outside of the port to stop any movement. The Cabinet
discussed whether the submarines should be limited to surveillance, or
if they should ‘take action against’ the ships.21 Officials did not reach a
decision on this question immediately, but their discussions signalled
a broader mindset. British policy-makers recognised the importance of
the French fleet, and there was a willingness to use violence in order to
ensure its non-participation in the ongoing conflict.
On the British side, this sense of uneasiness surrounding the French
fleet was based on a number of factors. As a military asset, the fleet
was certainly of great value. First Sea Lord Pound estimated that the
16 ‘Implications of Securing Oran as an Alternative Base to Gibraltar’, 22 June 1940,

CAB 84/15, The National Archives (henceforth TNA).
17 Somerville’s Pocket Diary, 1940, 24 June 1940, SMVL 1/31, CCAC.
18 Alexander Cadogan, The Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan 1938–1945, ed. David Dilks
(London: Cassell, 1971), 306.
19 War Cabinet 183 (40) Conclusions, 26 June 1940, 11:30 a.m., CAB 65/7/78, TNA.
20 W.M.(40) 183rd Conclusions, Minute 5, Confidential Annex, 26 June 1940, 11:30
a.m., CAB 65/13/52, TNA.
21 Ibid.

Germans would be able to achieve full operational capabilities of the fleet

in only 2–3 months.22 The contemporary accuracy of this calculation mat-
ters less than its perceived accuracy in 1940. Admiral Darlan’s repeated
promises that the fleet would under no circumstances be allowed to fall
into German hands were of little value to the British. War Cabinet dis-
cussions confirmed the opinion that the French would not be able to
honour this promise while under the German thumb. More importantly,
Germany was unlikely to uphold any agreement of non-interference.
Another issue also impacted how British policy-makers thought about
the fleet: their desire to demonstrate on a local- and global-level Brit-
ain’s strength and resolve in continuing the war. When decision-makers
decided to take action against the fleet, they were not envisaging its com-
plete destruction. Rather, neutralising it on British terms would keep it
out of Axis hands while simultaneously showcasing British power. This
way of thinking will be crucial in understanding how and why British
policy towards the fleet was discussed and agreed upon over the next
week. Policy-makers operated under two main assumptions. First, some
elements of the French fleet were strategically more important than
others. Recall the early discussions surrounding the fate of Dunkerque
and Strasbourg. Second, the symbolic importance of taking confident and
decisive action against the fleet played a significant role in how Cata-
pult was planned. British action against the French fleet was a visual
demonstration of how policy-makers hoped to portray Britain’s position
within the conflict: as a powerful yet moral actor capable of carrying
forward the struggle. This idea will be especially evident in the care that
policy-makers took to avoid civilian causalities. And while British leaders
were anxious to bolster public opinion at home, they were also eager to
showcase British strength and resolve to an American audience.
Planning Catapult and the American Factor

One historian has argued that Churchill imposed his own solution
regarding the French fleet over the objections of his ministers.23 Insisting
that Churchill pressured his cabinet to ratify hostile action against the
French Navy oversimplifies the way in which policy towards the French
fleet developed. It also ignores the broader symbolic value of the Cat-
apult operations. British policy towards the French fleet embodied its
promise to successfully prosecute the war and signalled to the Americans
that Britain was a safe investment. We know that in late June, there was
22 Brown, Road to Oran, xxxvi.

23 Lasterle, ‘Admiral Gensoul’, 839.

Planning Catapult and the American Factor 63
a general consensus between Churchill, his Cabinet, and the Admiralty

that action should be taken to ‘neutralise’ the fleet, or strategic ships
within it. Doing so would safeguard the war effort and contribute to the
defence of Britain.24 This point was reiterated at the 27 June War Cabi-
net meeting where members noted, ‘The real question at issue was what
to do as regards the French ships at Oran’.25 On the same day, Somer-
ville was notified that he would be commanding Force H to secure ‘the
transfer, surrender or destruction of the French warships at Oran and
Mers el Kébir, so as to ensure that these ships could not fall into German
or Italian hands’.26
Churchill proposed three alternatives to the War Cabinet. First, the
ships could immediately be mined with magnetic mines. Second, a
British naval contingent could give those ships a number of alternatives,
including demilitarisation under British control, transfer to British ports,
or to be sunk in three hours. Third, two submarines could be posted out-
side Oran, which would sink the ships if they attempted to leave.27 Using
destructive force against the French fleet was always the last resort,
although a possibility, nonetheless. The 27 June Cabinet meeting made
it very clear that the ships berthed at Oran, specifically the military port
of Mers el-Kébir, were vitally important to British interests. Although
the possibility of combining operations at Oran with others in the Medi-
terranean or with attempts to secure the Richelieu and Jean Bart, was
mentioned, plans for Oran always took priority.
The second part of the meeting addressed British public opinion sur-
rounding the French fleet. From the outset, policy-makers were consid-
ering and taking measures to try to influence how wartime operations
were likely to be received by members of the public.
In discussion, the view was expressed that it was most important to take
action to ensure that the French Fleet could not be used against us. Public
opinion was strongly insistent that we should take action on the lines of the
measures taken at Copenhagen against the Danish Fleet. In this connection,
however, references which were now appearing in the Press, as to measures
which might be taken against the French Fleet, were greatly to be deprecated,
and instructions should be sent to ensure that this matter was not discussed
in the Press.28
24 Ibid., 838. Marder, Dardanelles to Oran, 198.

25 WM (40) 184th Conclusions, Minute 5, Confidential Annex, 27 June 1940, 12 noon,
CAB 65/13/53, TNA.
26 ‘Admiral Somerville’s Official Report’, 26 July 1940, ADM 199/826, TNA.
CAB 65/13/53, TNA.
28 Ibid.

The War Cabinet agreed that action should be taken against the fleet.
It also acknowledged that public opinion was in favour of this approach.
Pétain’s government, by this time settled in the French spa town of
Vichy, was also keeping careful track of British opinion. From London,
Charge d’ Affaires Roger Cambon sent regular analyses of the British press
to Vichy. He concluded that confidence in Britain remained relatively
strong after events in France. The population was focused largely on the
battle ahead and the possibility of German invasion.29 Decisive action to
secure the French fleet would strengthen public confidence even further.
War Cabinet members believed that the majority of the British popu-
lation was likely to approve of operations against the fleet. But local reac-
tions were not the only source of concern. British decision-makers were
also trying to shape a wartime policy that would garner support from fur-
ther afield. In this vein, the War Cabinet agreed that hypothetical opera-
tions should not be discussed in the press. The press would be informed
that ‘discussion of such measures might have an unfavourable reaction
in French circles which we hoped to rally to our side’.30 It was even more
important to avoid actions that would drive away popular French sup-
port given that General de Gaulle was still struggling to gain adherents to
his Free French movement. Admiral Cunningham, the Commander in
Chief of the Mediterranean fleet, wrote to Pound of de Gaulle: ‘No one
has any opinion of him’.31 Quashing press speculation ahead of opera-
tions against the fleet would give London a clean slate upon which to
explain how and why operations had been carried out. By the end of the
meeting, the War Cabinet had agreed to move forward. It would pre-
pare an ultimatum, and Pound and Alexander were instructed to begin
arranging the details of an operation to neutralise the French fleet.32
In the days that followed, the Cabinet commissioned a series of inves-
tigative studies. Its goal was to understand how operations against the
French fleet were likely to affect a number of stakeholders. The reports
emphasised the role that Catapult would play, both on a strategic and
symbolic level. On 29 June, Churchill requested a memorandum analys-
ing the implications of an aggressive policy towards the French Navy.33 An
initial report, compiled by the Cabinet’s Joint Planning Sub Committee
(JPSC), reached several conclusions. The first concerned the American
29 Telegram, Cambon to Vichy, 30 June 1940, 10GMII/296, MAE.

CAB 65/13/53, TNA.
31 Simpson, Cunningham Papers, 82.
32 Ibid.
33 ‘Implications of Action Contemplated in Respect of Certain French Ships’, 29 June
1940, CAB 84/15, TNA.

reaction. It suggested that favourable American opinion of the British

would increase in response to the proposed action. American opposition
to the Franco-German armistice meant that American opinion already
favoured the British at the expense of the French.34 This conclusion was
echoed in Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax’s report. Drawing on informa-
tion provided by the American Undersecretary of State, he suggested ‘In
the view of the American Government, the surrender of the French Fleet
was the most degrading surrender in history …. It seemed safe to assume
that any action which we might take in respect of the French Fleet would
be applauded in the United States’.35 American approval was and would
continue to be a frequent consideration in British wartime policy. Roo-
sevelt’s likely endorsement of Catapult was reiterated in a War Cabinet
meeting on 3 July.36 However, the JPSC report concluded with a warn-
ing. Any British actions against the French fleet could spark a French
reaction. And it was impossible to know what this might look like.
At the worst the French re-actions might be extremely serious and would then
immensely complicate the already heavy task. If, therefore, there is a genuine
danger that the action proposed would lead to the active hostility of France and
of her colonial possessions, we do not consider that the destruction of these
French ships by force would be justified.37
Despite these uncertainties, the Chiefs of Staff (COS) did not believe
that France would declare war against Britain. Of course, they were cor-
rect. They believed that there were strong strands of defeatism in both
metropolitan and colonial France, making it unlikely that French officials
would be able to raise a force of any significance against the British.38
More importantly, the plans that were being negotiated within the War
Cabinet continued to focus upon the principal ships at Mers el-Kébir.
The harbour installations and proximity to civilian enclaves of Algiers and
Alexandria largely ruled out the use of naval bombardment. This meant
that the operations at Mers el-Kébir were always much more likely to end
in violence.
On 30 June, the War Cabinet COS Committee compiled a final report.
It took into consideration the recommendations that had been discussed
over the past week. And it re-emphasised the relative importance of the
34 Ibid.
35 WM (40) 187th Conclusions Minute 8, Confidential Annex, 29 June 1940, 10 a.m.,
CAB 65/13/55, TNA.
36 Conclusions, Minute 5 Confidential Annex, 3 July 1940, CAB 65/14/3, TNA.
37 ‘Implications of Action Contemplated in Respect of Certain French Ships’, 29 June
1940, CAB 84/15, TNA.
38 Chiefs of Staff, ‘Implications of French Hostility, Draft Report’, 4 July 1940, CAB
80/14, TNA.

fleet at Mers el-Kébir. Action was conceptualised around six alterna-

tives: (1) requesting active participation by the French Navy in the war;
(2) requesting French ships to come to British ports where they would
not be actively involved in the war; (3) demilitarisation of French ships;
(4) scuttling of French ships; (5) taking no further action if the French
did not agree to any of the above four alternatives; and (6) ‘in the last
resort to take action against the French Fleet at Oran’.39 The study con-
cluded with the following recommendation:
We have given most careful consideration to the implications of taking action
against the French Fleet at Oran and, after balancing all the arguments both
for and against such action, we have reached the conclusion on balance that the
operations contemplated should be carried out.40
This aide-memoire reflected key concerns evident throughout the
decision-making process, namely the French ships at Oran. Option five,
to refrain from further action should the French refuse all of the alterna-
tives, was quickly eliminated.
While Churchill and his staff were discussing the proposed Catapult
operations, the Admiralty was providing operational instructions to
admirals Somerville and Cunningham. Cunningham would lead opera-
tions against the Free fleet at Alexandria. On 30 June, the War Cabinet
had also decided to expand Catapult to include French ‘men-of-war’
in the eastern Mediterranean and British ports.41 Communications
directed to Somerville’s Force H between 29 and 30 June emphasised
two familiar preoccupations: the perceived importance of Dunkerque and
Strasbourg and the necessity of avoiding civilian causalities. Force H was
instructed not to carry out earlier proposed operations at the neighbour-
ing port of Algiers. In light of the ‘strength of defences at Algiers and
impossibility of avoiding destruction of town, it is not, repetition, not
considered justifiable to carry out an operation against that place’. [sic]42
On 30 June, the Admiralty sent a signal to Force H and Admiral Cun-
ningham with provisional details of the decision to take action against
the French fleet at Mers el-Kébir. A separate naval cypher was also sent
to Force H stating: ‘It is the firm intention of H.M.G. that if the French
will not accept any of the alternatives which are being sent to you their
ships must be destroyed’.43 The ultimatum contained four alternatives,
39 War Cabinet Chief of Staff Committee Memoranda, ‘Implications of Action

Contemplated in Respect of Certain French Ships’, 30 June 1940, CAB 80/14, TNA.
40 Ibid.
41 Gilbert, Finest Hour, 629.
42 ‘Operation “Catapult”’, 29 June 1940, SMVL 7/19, CCAC.
43 Admiralty to Vice Admiral Force H, 1 July 1941, ADM 1/10321, TNA.

which Somerville would deliver to Admiral Gensoul. They included: (1)

French ships sail to British harbours to continue the fight; (2) French
ships sail to British ports where they would be kept until the conclusion
of the war; (3) French ships immediately demilitarised to British satisfac-
tion; and (4) French ships would scuttle themselves.44 These alternatives
were later modified. Demilitarisation was replaced with the option of
sailing to a French port in the West Indies. Somerville could only agree
to demilitarisation if the French suggested it themselves after rejecting all
of the other alternatives.45
The Admiralty provided further details in the final paragraph of
Somerville’s instructions. They reiterated the necessity of removing from
service key ships in the French fleet:
If none of the above alternatives are accepted by the French you are to endeav-
our to destroy ships in MERS EL KEBIR but particularly DUNQUERQUE
and STRASBOURG, using all means at your disposal. Ships at Oran should
also be destroyed if this will not entail any considerable loss of civilian life.46
The object of Catapult was never to destroy the fleet as a whole. Every
report that considered action against it acknowledged that the use of
force was viable only within the port of Mers el-Kébir. The nuances
of the operation become clear if we compare the instructions that were
drawn up for Mers el-Kébir with those that were written for Alexandria.
A similar naval bombardment at Alexandria was not feasible as it ‘would
seriously damage Britain’s own naval installations …’47 The ultimatum
that Admiral Cunningham gave to Admiral René-Émile Godfroy, the
commander of Force X, was more lenient. The ships at this port did not
have the same strategic value as those at Mers el-Kébir. The Alexandria
ultimatum, which Cunningham received on 2 July, first expressed the
desire to obtain the ships for British use. It then included two options if
Godfroy refused. He could leave the ships at Alexandria in ‘non-seagoing
condition’ with skeleton crews or scuttle the ships at sea.48
The operations that were planned and carried out at Mers el-Kébir
under Admiral Somerville, at Alexandria under Admiral Cunningham
and at British ports were all motivated by Britain’s desire to secure the
French fleet. However, there were fundamental differences in how each
44 Admiralty to Force H and C-in-C Mediterranean, 30 June 1940, ADM 1/10321,

TNA.
45 Marder, Dardanelles to Oran, 232–233.
46 ‘Operation “Catapult”’, SMLV 7/19, 29 June 1940, CCAC.
47 Martin Gilbert, Winston S. Churchill, vol. 6, Finest Hour 1939–1941 (Hillsdale,
Michigan: Hillsdale College Press, 1983), 640.
48 Simpson, Cunningham Papers, 89–90.

operation was conceptualised and carried out. These differences were

a product of the strategic value of the ships at each port. They also
reflected a pragmatic evaluation of the use of violence. British policy-
makers wanted to protect harbour installations where possible. But they
also sought to avoid damaging civilian installations and incurring civil-
ian causalities. It is important to recognise these subtleties within the
policy-making process because they impacted how decision-makers jus-
tified their policy within the framework of a just and moral war. Michael
Bess has demonstrated that moral considerations played a crucial role in
wartime policy-making and actions.49 The rhetoric of a moral war was
no less important. Policy-makers wielded moral arguments as rhetorical
weapons.
British strategy towards the French fleet was more than Churchill
forcing a pet project onto a reluctant Cabinet. The development of
Operation Catapult was driven by a range of attitudes. Policy-makers
viewed the fleet not only as a strategic asset but also understood that
neutralising it could send a powerful message about Britain’s war effort.
The memorandums produced within or for use by the War Cabinet
combined these strategic concerns with the desire to use action against
the fleet as a way to showcase British power, particularly to an Ameri-
can audience. Certainly, Churchill played a large role, not only in the
formulation of policy but also in its dissemination to the public through
his own speeches and statements. But he was not acting alone. Even
this draft message, which was delivered to Admiral Gensoul at Mers el-
Kébir, was crafted jointly by Churchill and the Admiralty.
It is impossible for us, your comrades up till now, to allow your fine ships to
fall into the power of the German or Italian enemy. We are determined to fight
on to the end, and if we win, as we think we shall, we shall never forget that
France was our ally, that our interests are the same as hers, and that our com-
mon enemy is Germany. Should we conquer we solemnly declare that we shall
restore the greatness of France, and that not an inch of her territory shall be
alienated. For this purpose we must make sure that the best ships of the French
Navy are not used against us by the common foe.50
The COS also played an important and influential role in refining
Operation Catapult. They backed Catapult but refused to sanction
Operation Susan, a plan to set up a French Government outside of met-
ropolitan France, despite heavy pressure from Churchill. Episodes such
Vintage Books, 2006), 4.
50 Admiralty to Force H and C-in-C Mediterranean, 30 June 1940, ADM 1/10321,
TNA.

Justifying Operation Catapult 69
as these demonstrate a more even distribution of power and influence,

particularly at a point when Churchill had yet to completely win over the
government.51
On 1 July at a 6 p.m. War Cabinet meeting, members reviewed
the final details of the Catapult operations, including the ultimatum
to be handed to Admiral Gensoul. The French Naval Attaché Admi-
ral Oden’hal had earlier told the Vice Chief of the Naval Staff that
Darlan had telegrammed asking the British to reserve final judgment
until the details of the armistice conditions were known. Churchill had
replied: ‘discussions as to the armistice conditions could not affect the
real facts of the situation’.52 Catapult was set to proceed. At the same
meeting members chose not to offer Gensoul the option to demilita-
rise his ships.53 If Gensoul suggested demilitarisation himself, this could
be accepted only if the process was completed within six hours and
rendered the ships useless for a year.54 The text of the final ultimatum
continued to align French and British interests. An earlier draft sug-
gested that France’s reputation would be tarnished if Germany seized
the fleet. However, the wording was modified to argue that by com-
plying with British requests, France and Britain would become part-
ners in safeguarding French honour. The final version claimed ‘that the
arrangements that we were proposing was consistent with French hon-
our’ [sic].55 This appeal, which also contained the four alternatives to be
offered to Admiral Gensoul, was sent to Somerville. Cunningham also
received a copy. Operational plans were now nearly complete. However,
before they were launched on 3 July, British policy-makers had one final
task. They had to construct a message that positioned Catapult firmly
within Britain’s wartime mantra of honourable struggle, eventual victory
and French salvation.
Justifying Operation Catapult

In July 1940, Churchill’s government had little room to manoeuvre.
The War Cabinet tended to back actions that were militarily feasible
but would also demonstrate Britain’s commitment to continue fighting
the war. In the case of the French fleet, it seemed inconceivable to leave
such a valuable asset to the Axis powers. At the same time, policy-makers
did not want to risk driving French support away from the British war
51 Gilbert, Finest Hour, 630–631.

52 Conclusions, Minute 1, Confidential Annex, 1 July 1940, CAB 65/14/1, TNA.
53 Ibid.
54 War Cabinet Conclusions, 2 July 1940, CAB 65/8/3, TNA.
55 Ibid.

effort. And they did not know how the British public would respond to
violent action taken against an ally, even one that was no longer an active
combatant. They recognised that any operation against the fleet would
have to be justified to the British public as well as opinion in France and
the United States. By comparing the discussions that took place in the
War Cabinet and the Admiralty to the statements that were crafted for
the press and public, it will become evident that preparations to justify
Operation Catapult were an essential part of the policy-making process.
Policy-makers thought about how different groups of the public would
respond to an operation. And these considerations influenced how oper-
ations were conceptualised, implemented and justified. The operations
at Mers el-Kébir, and the rhetoric that followed them, were used to dem-
onstrate British power and strength and to press home Britain’s wartime
narrative, which culminated in an Allied victory.
In the days leading up to 3 July, Admiralty officials began finalising
the content of public statements for Catapult. On 2 July, Lord Alexan-
der gave Churchill the rough draft of a press release, which would be
distributed by the Ministry of Information (MOI) after the operations
had commenced. The draft contained two sections. The first suggested a
timeline for publication and the second proposed the text of the release.
The timing of the press release was crucial and would depend upon how
smoothly the operations had proceeded or were proceeding. Alexander
considered two likely scenarios. In the first, the text would be released
after the operation was completed. ‘The publication of the news of our
action in regard to the French Fleet must be carefully timed. If things
go well it would be desirable to wait until the operation whatever form
it takes is complete, and then to announce it with a justification of our
actions’.56 In this scenario, Gensoul would accept British terms, and
there would be no bloodshed. Catapult would be celebrated as a well-
considered and smoothly run operation.
In the second scenario, French resistance to British demands and/or
clashes between the French and British squadrons called for a slightly
different approach. If the operation did not go as planned, the MOI
would release a statement addressing the actions as they unfolded. ‘…
trouble may ensue and it will then be necessary to explain our attitude
and the reasons for the action which we are taking’.57 Having two alter-
natives for timing the release of the official explanation was important.
Decision-makers wanted to control as much as possible the circulation
of potentially negative or divisive news. Remember that the War Cabinet
56 Alexander to Churchill, 2 July 1940, PREM 3/179/4, TNA.

57 Ibid.

Justifying Operation Catapult 71
had earlier agreed to suppress discussion in the press of possible action

against the fleet. This tactic allowed official explanations to be writ-
ten and published without having to first address or acknowledge prior
speculations.
Policy-makers were also cognisant that sections of the British public
still resented having been coddled with exaggerated reports of Allied suc-
cesses during the battle for the Low Countries and France. There was
an overwhelming demand amongst much of the population to be kept
informed about the war, whether the news was good or bad. The draft
press releases relating to Catapult in July 1940 acknowledged this senti-
ment. They endeavoured to avoid the backlash that would result from
misinforming the public or suppressing bad news. This latter point was
key. The British government wished to construct a particular image of
itself to present to the public: a decision-making body that was capable
of successfully prosecuting the war. Keeping the population abreast of
developing operations, even if they were in the midst of crisis, built a
sense of credibility and trustworthiness.
The content of Alexander’s press communiqué was just as important
as the timing of its publication. ‘But in any event it would seem that the
basis of justification for our action is to be found in the communication
which the Vice-Admiral Commanding has been instructed to make to
the French Commander, and this could well be published as it stands,
together with any necessary information’.58 Alexander’s plan emphasised
how important it was to justify the operation to the public. It recognised
that British policy towards the fleet needed to be explained. But these
explanations also needed to convince their audience of the necessity of
that course of action. Within the body of the draft press statement, sev-
eral features in the text stood out. First, at no time was blame placed
upon any individual. Rather, the document referred only to the vague
body of ‘the French Government’ in describing or justifying the actions
that were taken by the British. This technique, and the overall tone of the
piece, administered blame in a general sense on French leadership, not
the population as a whole. The War Cabinet was keen to avoid fostering
Francophobia within Britain and the wider empire. In the week before
Catapult, the British public were anxious about the fate of the French
fleet but were still sympathetic to the plight of the French population
more broadly.59
The language proposed to justify Catapult built on the themes that
had been used to criticise the Franco-German armistice and delegitimise
58 Ibid.
59 Cambon à Vichy, 25 June 1940, 10GMII/292, MAE.

the Vichy government. The press release first criticised the French deci-
sion to request an armistice. It used this critique as a foundation to argue
that Britain’s response to the fleet was unavoidable. This strategy aimed
to convince the reader that British action was not only necessary but also
that it was morally and ethically sound. The core of the argument was
framed in the opening sentence: ‘The French Government felt that they
were unable to continue the struggle on land against Germany and in
spite of agreements solemnly entered into with His Majesty’s Govern-
ment, sought an armistice of the German Government’.60 In the second
half of the statement, Alexander contended that seeking the armi-
stice was a violation of the Franco-British agreement not to conclude
a separate peace. This claim established Britain’s legal right to engage
in actions that would fix the damage caused by breaking this contract.
Following these assertions, the draft made two claims. First, the fate of
the French fleet would influence Britain’s ability to win the war. Sec-
ond, despite honourable British actions to protect the fleet prior to the
armistice request, the French had not acquiesced. This refusal left the
British no choice but to take further action. Doing so was the only way
to secure itself and its citizens from German and Italian aggression.61
German promises not to commandeer the fleet for itself, the press release
emphasised, could not be trusted.
Even the grammatical construction of the press release emphasised
the wilful actions of Pétain’s government in the days leading up to Mers
el-Kébir. ‘The French Government’ as an active subject was the focus in
the first half of the narration. In sum:
The French Government felt that they were unable to continue the struggle
on land …, the French Government approached the German Government
with a request for an armistice …, The French Government … assured His
Majesty’s Government that they would never sign ‘dishonourable terms of an
armistice with the enemy’ …, … the French Government have put themselves
in a position in which it may be impossible for them to give effect to those
assurances …62
The British Government, on the other hand, was referred to only in
the passive tense. As a result, it appeared that the British government
was being acted upon, rather than controlling actions around it. Rather
than saying ‘Churchill’s government recognised the importance of the
French fleet to the on-going war effort’, the publication observed that
60 Alexander to Churchill, 2 July 1940, PREM 3/179/4, TNA.

61 Ibid.
62 Ibid.

Conclusion 73
the value of the fleet ‘was pointed out to them …’63 Passive voice made
the subject implicit by emphasising the direct object. This made Cata-
pult appear to be an automatic or inevitable response to French action.
In the second half of the draft statement, the British government began
to take a more active role. However, the message still relied substantially
upon broad arguments of inevitability. The British were portrayed as
having little choice in their subsequent actions: ‘In these circumstances
His Majesty’s Government have felt constrained to take action to ensure
that important units of the French Fleet shall not come under enemy
control for possible use against the British Empire’.64 This press release
placed full responsibility for the chain of events leading to 3 July on the
French government. British agency was all but eliminated. The reader
was left with the perception that there was simply no other course of
action that the British could have taken. This draft was the response to
a best-case scenario, in which the French admiralty chose not to resist
British demands. Unfortunately, Catapult did not go as smoothly as
policy-makers hoped.
Conclusion
British policy towards the French fleet rested upon a broad two-part
consensus. First, the strategic importance of the fleet meant that it had
to be protected against German or Italian seizure. Second, the process
of neutralising the fleet would be adapted according to the actual cir-
cumstances at each port and the ships that were docked there. From
early on, military considerations played a crucial role. Any planned
actions had to account for material limitations faced by British naval
forces. They also had to try to anticipate how the French would respond
to British actions, especially hostile ones. Previous studies have not con-
sidered the nuances of British policy towards the French fleet as well as
the limitations it faced. This chapter has laid out these differences as
crucial to understanding how and why operations would develop dif-
ferently at each port. It has also laid the groundwork for understand-
ing how rhetoric would, in the aftermath of the bombardments, distort
policy in favour of presenting a coherent image of British strength and
resolve. The significance of the rhetoric that surrounded Mers el-Kébir,
for both British and French policy-makers, will become more apparent
in the following chapter.
63 Ibid.
64 Ibid.

As soon as discussions regarding the French fleet commenced, it was

clear that neutralising the ships at Mers el-Kébir, particularly Dunkerque
and Strasbourg, was a top priority. Their location, within a military port,
also meant that bombardment was viable. Collateral damages such as
civilian causalities and the destruction of the town were not pertinent fac-
tors. Considering and limiting Catapult based on the possibility of civil-
ian deaths reflected beliefs within the War Cabinet that civilian losses in
wartime were still indefensible, or at least more difficult to defend. These
discussions showed that when formulating policies, decision-makers did
not only consider what was feasible on a purely military level. They also
accounted for the need to explain and justify wartime operations on a
normative and moral level within the public sphere. By anticipating how
the public might respond to a particular operation, policy-makers were
accounting for popular opinion (or at least their conception of it) when
they were making policy. They were recognising that rhetorical, as well
as military battles, were an important element of wartime operations.
The perceived innocence of civilians acted as a limiting factor in the
same way that material strength did.
Examining how Britain’s policy towards the French fleet was being
made in the War Cabinet has made clear that assessments of public
opinion, in Britain, France and the United States, did play a role in
the minds of decision-makers. This was apparent in the early acknowl-
edgement that British public opinion was already receptive to action
against the French fleet. It resurfaced as decision-makers were weigh-
ing out strategic considerations and writing a press release justifying the
operation. The desire to maintain pro-British sentiments in metropolitan
France served as an additional check on British rhetoric. Understanding
the Catapult operations means appreciating how decision-makers cre-
ated policy behind closed doors and how they defended this policy in the
public sector. This approach highlights the interdependencies between
policy-making and the public sphere. And it shows how important it was
for policy-makers to craft a wider wartime narrative that linked present
policies to future promises.
Reinhart Koselleck has asserted, ‘An ability to speak convincingly
about the future … has become one of the requisites of legitimate author-
ity in modern politics’.65 For British decision-makers, policy towards the
French fleet symbolised a promise of future victory. The early draft press
release displayed a clear attempt to exonerate and justify British actions
65 Jon Cowans, ‘Visions of the Postwar: The Politics of Memory and Expectation in
1940s France’, History and Memory 10, no. 2 (1998): 70.

Conclusion 75
on a moral level. It lay the blame at the door of the French govern-
ment without incriminating the broader French public. This approach
attempted to keep the idea of Franco-British partnership alive by mak-
ing one of the Britain’s wartime aims the liberation of France. As events
around the fleet unfolded, policy-makers would be forced to modify their
press releases to not only reflect but also more importantly justify the
starker reality of the outcome. How they would do this would reveal the
ever-present concern for public sentiment at home, within the French
metropole and in the United States. At the same time, Britain’s wartime
narrative would find itself pitted against that of the metropolitan French
government.

3 A Necessary Tragedy? The British
Bombardments of the French Fleet
at Mers El-Kébir
On 3 July 1940, in an 11:30 a.m. War Cabinet meeting, British minis-

ters made three decisions. First, they agreed not to release to the public
precise statistics concerning air raid deaths and injuries. They believed
these details could damage morale. Second, they sent a noncommit-
tal note to former French premier Édouard Daladier in response to his
request to come to Britain. The reason for this delaying tactic was that
his presence in Britain ‘might be embarrassing politically’.1 These first
two decisions reflected the value that policy-makers placed on making
the British government appear powerful and decisive in the eyes of the
public. Maintaining a strong public façade was a way to make official
‘inevitable victory’ promises appear more credible. Third, Churchill’s
ministerial colleagues confirmed that the Prime Minister would address
the Commons the following day to explain the operations currently
underway to contain the French fleet.2 Churchill’s speech was only one
in a series of public announcements concerning the fleet. As the Catapult
negotiations dragged on, policy-makers continued to revise and re-revise
press statements and speeches explaining why the Royal Navy had just
engaged in what was ostensibly an act of war against its former ally.
The planning process has demonstrated that a range of factors and
concerns shaped the operational boundaries of Catapult. The French
fleet was important to Pétain’s government. It was the fourth largest
navy in the world.3 But its value transcended that of a strategic asset. It
was a symbol of its sovereignty and the protector of its empire. For Brit-
ain, the fleet was seen as a strategic liability to its ongoing war effort. But
it was also an opportunity to take decisive action that would demonstrate
Britain’s commitment and ability to continue the war. Thus, British
1 War Cabinet 192 (40) Conclusions, 3 July 1940, CAB/65/8/4, The National Archives
(henceforth TNA).
2 Ibid.
3 Alan Allport, Britain at Bay: The Epic Story of the Second World War: 1938–1941
(London: Profile Books, 2020), 194.
76

A Necessary Tragedy? 77
policy towards the fleet was a product of strategic concerns as well as less
tangible factors such as public opinion. Decision-makers were careful to
consider how different groups inside and outside of Britain would react
to violence being used against the fleet. Military operations against the
fleet were viable from a material perspective. Yet, symbolic ethical and
moral considerations played a key role in isolating violent action to spe-
cific ports where the risk of extensive civilian causalities was minimised.
This chapter will move on from the plans for Operation Catapult to
consider how events developed on the ground. Material factors such as
limited time and poor communications impacted the outcome at Mers
el-Kébir. It will then explore the justifications and condemnations that
exploded in reaction to the bombardments – the war of words. These
debates moved decisively away from conceptualising the events as a stra-
tegic wartime operation. Instead, the bombardments were interpreted in
much more subjective and emotional terms. In British justifications, the
bombardments were a necessary tragedy. In metropolitan France, they
were a vicious stab in the back.
Until operation Catapult commenced on 3 July, British policy-makers
had to plan their rhetoric around a number of possible outcomes. This
process illustrated that the operations at Mers el-Kébir were more than a
strategic gambit. For many within Britain, they were the manifestation of
a broader sentiment that called for – and indeed craved – decisive action.
The press releases and radio addresses that emerged from the War Cabi-
net and Admiralty offices highlighted the desire to gain approval not just
from the British public but also from further afield. Specifically, from
within governing circles in Washington and the wider American public.
These goals made the public representation of the operations critical.
Discussions over how to present the outcome of Catapult were a signifi-
cant part of the planning process that unfolded in the War Cabinet.
What emerged, on the British side, was a series of statements that
described the bombardments as a literal demonstration of British strength
and determination. At the same time, the French condemned British pol-
icy at Mers el-Kébir for its brutality against a neutral state and its alleged
failure to engage in established patterns of conventional diplomacy. The
British may not have had many military options available to them in July
1940. However, this weakness was certainly not apparent in the rhetoric
that followed the bombardments. Justifications pressed home the inevi-
tability of the operation. They framed the bombardments as a sign of
unswerving British resolve and the country’s undiminished capacity to
wage war against the Axis powers. At the same time, British rhetoric con-
tinued attempts to foster the support of metropolitan France by rhetori-
cally exonerating the French population from the ‘Men of Vichy’.

78 A Necessary Tragedy?
In the French spa town of Vichy, the new home of the French metro-
politan government from 1 July 1940, Pétain would also turn to rheto-
ric in an attempt to discredit British actions at Mers el-Kébir. Pétain
and Paul Baudouin’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs attempted to sway
American and global opinion against the ‘British aggressions’. But it
quickly became clear that the vast majority of the international press
was more inclined to see the bombardments as a reasonable course of
action.
Following official statements, speeches and broadcasts, mass media
outlets in both France and Britain largely echoed the official explana-
tions offered by their respective leadership. The British press drew on
an abundance of historic imagery to further justify the brutality of the
operations. It connected past victories to the present conflict in order
to suggest future success. On the French side, Mers el-Kébir was a piv-
otal event. It influenced how Franco-British relations were portrayed for
the rest of the war. The bombardments came to signify the resurgence
of Britain’s historic policy of territorial violation and blatant aggression
against the French state. After the conclusion of the Franco-German
armistice, the legitimacy of unoccupied France as an imperial nation
depended on its ability to maintain the territorial integrity of both the
metropole and its colonies. British and later Free French incursions and
the rhetoric that accompanied them were challenges to French sover-
eignty, and more precisely the legitimacy of Pétain’s government. The
Vichy government countered these challenges by claiming the rights of a
neutral nation and by dismissing the Gaullist movement as both traitor-
ous and essentially un-French.
Timeline of Events
In the days leading up to 3 July, Admiral Somerville finalised his opera-
tional plans. These detailed instructions tried to anticipate how Admiral
Marcel-Bruno Gensoul, the commander of the Force de Raid moored at
Mers el-Kébir, would respond to the British ultimatum. On 30 June, flag
officers and senior commanding officers met onboard the British battle
cruiser HMS Hood. Here, they agreed that if it became necessary, a bom-
bardment at Mers el-Kébir would be carried out in three phases. First,
Somerville would order rounds to be fired purely as a means to scare the
French and indicate British resolve. If the French still refused British
terms, limited gunfire and bombing would be initiated to prompt the
evacuation of the ships. Last, torpedoes or other means would sink the
ships. Similar destructive action at the neighbouring non-military port
of Oran was, as we know, not considered permissible due to the likely

Timeline of Events 79
high loss of civilian life.4 Operational orders dated 1 July formalised this
three-stage approach. Stage II parts 1 and 2 were described as follows:
(1) ‘Show that we are in earnest by offensive action without endangering
French ships’. (2) ‘Destroy the French ships by our own actions’.5 This
was a coherent plan created by British Admiralty commanders to disable
vital units of the French fleet at Mers el-Kébir. It anticipated only limited
casualties thanks to the two-stage warning system.
At 10:45 a.m. on 3 July, Admiral Somerville noted in his diary that the
French were furling their awnings, an act that could only be construed as
readying for a fight. In response, the Admiralty suggested seeding the har-
bour with magnetic mines to prevent the fleet from escaping.6 Early that
same morning, Somerville had received another message from the Admi-
ralty. It stated that although no time limit would be imposed on the ultima-
tum, it was important that the proceedings were completed, whatever the
outcome, before the sun went down that day.7 This stipulation had a direct
impact on the negotiations. It imposed a highly restrictive time frame that
did not leave Somerville with room to manoeuvre should Gensoul delay
in answering the ultimatum. Somerville’s Vice Admiral Cedric Holland
delivered the terms of the British ultimatum and the accompanying mes-
sage to the French Admiralty between 11:00 a.m. and 11:15 a.m. on the
morning of 3 July. Because Holland was fluent in French, he had been
given the unsavoury task of delivering the ultimatum to Admiral Gensoul.
However, Gensoul was offended that a ranking captain had brought the
message rather than an admiral. He refused to see Holland, forcing him
to wait in his boat for the French Admiralty barge to deliver a response.8
Gensoul’s refusal to cooperate was disappointing to Somerville and others
in the British Admiralty. However, perhaps they should have been less sur-
prised. As one of the only Protestants in the heavily Catholic French Navy,
Somerville considered Gensoul to be relatively Anglophilic. But Gensoul
had already declined once to colour outside the lines of French official-
dom. On 24 June, British Admiral Dudley North had visited Gensoul in
an attempt to take advantage of his personal sympathies and persuade him
to continue the war alongside Britain. However, he had refused on the
grounds that he was bound to obey the orders of the French government.9
4 Admiral Somerville’s Official Report, 26 July 1940, ADM 199/826, TNA.

5 ‘Operation Orders for Operation “Catapult”’, 1 July 1940, SMVL 7/19, Churchill
Archive Centre (henceforth CCAC).
7 Ibid.
8 Ibid.
9 Philippe Lasterle, ‘Could Admiral Gensoul Have Averted the Tragedy of Mers el-
Kébir?’ The Journal of Military History 67, no. 3 (2003): 840.

At 11:30 a.m., First Sea Lord Pound sent a message informing Force H
that he was drafting a signal that would offer the French immediate demili-
tarisation in addition to the options stated in the ultimatum. However,
Pound telephoned Somerville an hour later to inform him that the draft
had not been approved. Instead, Somerville should inform the French fleet
that if it prepared to leave the harbour he would open fire.10 Gensoul had,
in the meantime, conveyed the British ultimatum to his superiors at the
Admiralty, although he failed to mention the option to move the fleet to a
port in the French West Indies or the United States.11 Too much weight
should not be given to this omission for changing the course of events.
Throughout the day, Gensoul clearly reiterated his refusal of the ultima-
tum. He also did not believe that the British would actually open fire on the
fleet.12 Gensoul made no move to evacuate his ships against the possibility
of attack, nor did he display any real intention to concede to any of the
British requests. This inaction was a symptom of the belief on both sides
that actual bombardment was highly unlikely. To the British, the most
important outcome was the public display of Pétain’s government yielding
to British strength and resolve. The decision not to offer demilitarisation
after having delivered the original ultimatum stemmed from this mindset.
War Cabinet minutes stated that to do so ‘would look like weakening’.13
Following the receipt of the British ultimatum, both admirals waited
for his counterpart to yield. At 11:51 a.m. and again just after 12:09 p.m.,
Gensoul repeated his resolve to fight, rather than acquiesce to the British
terms. Somerville prepared to open fire.14 However, Vice Admiral Hol-
land suggested waiting and Somerville extended the ultimatum deadline.15
From this point onward, the decisions taken by Gensoul and Somerville
illustrated the high levels of uncertainty on both sides. Decision-making
was further constrained by the setting sun. Like Gensoul, Somerville
believed his counterpart would ultimately yield. He was loath to open fire
upon the French ships and interpreted French inaction as a sign of weak-
ening. He extended the deadline for British action to 3:30 p.m.16 Gensoul
eventually agreed to meet the British delegation aboard the Dunkerque at
2:15 p.m. The British Admiralty had informed Somerville on 2 July that
the French had a procedure for demilitarising their ships, which could

12 Robert and Isabelle Tombs, That Sweet Enemy: The French and the British from the Sun
King to the Present (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2007), 565.
13 W.M. (40) 192nd Conclusions, Minute 2, 3 July 1940, CAB 65/14/3, TNA.
15 Somerville’s Pocket Diary, 3 July 1940, SMVL 1/31, CCAC.
16 Ibid.

Timeline of Events 81
be completed in two hours. Somerville informed Holland that ‘should

necessity arise’ he should discuss demilitarisation with the French and
ascertain if the process would put the ships fully out of commission for 12
months.17 However, news of the impending arrival of French reinforce-
ments from Toulon and Algiers heightened tensions in the negotiating
environment. An Admiralty signal sent to Force H at 4:14 p.m. instructed
Somerville to resolve ongoing operations quickly as ‘he may have French
reinforcements to deal with’.18 Gensoul received a similar message from
Admiral Le Luc, Chief of Darlan’s personal staff, at 5:18 p.m.19
As darkness encroached, both sides were under pressure to end the
standoff. Negotiations drew to a close and Gensoul issued a final writ-
ten statement reiterating his intention to respond to force with force.20
Somerville’s report of the final moments described the French ships as
being in ‘an advanced state of readiness for sea … tugs were ready by
the sterns of each battleship. Guns were trained fore and aft’.21 At 5:53
p.m., Somerville gave the order to open fire upon the French fleet and
reported to the Admiralty that he was being heavily engaged at 6:00
p.m. A delayed signal arrived from the Admiralty at 6:26 p.m. after the
bombardment was in progress, informing Force H that the French must
comply with British terms, scuttle themselves, or be sunk by the British
before dark.22 The fact that this signal arrived after the bombardment
was already underway, suggests that although Somerville may have had
reservations about firing upon the fleet, his decision to do so was not
the result of a final direct order from either Churchill or the Admiralty.
Rather, Somerville, in his position as the local commander of this opera-
tion, gave the order to fire in response to real-time pressure. The bom-
bardment lasted for ten minutes. It left 1,297 dead and 351 wounded on
the French side. The British suffered two light injuries.23
Factors such as poor and delayed communications, the threat of French
reinforcements and approaching darkness clearly influenced the final out-
come at Mers el-Kébir. Not knowing when and if French reinforcements
were likely to arrive, Somerville was making decisions under immense
time pressure. This was especially true in the final hours of negotiations.
17 Ibid.
18 Ibid.
20 Arthur Marder, From the Dardanelles to Oran (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1974), 249.
21 ‘Narrative of Third July’, First Sea Lord’s Records 1939–1940, ADM 205/6, TNA.
22 Admiral Somerville’s Official Report, 26 July 1940, ADM 199/826, TNA. Somerville’s
pocket diary listed 17.45 as the time at which he opened fire, SMVL 1/31, CCAC.
23 Tombs, That Sweet Enemy, 565.

Hesitations on both sides also contributed to the relative chaos of the final
moments. Gensoul, to the very last, made no move to evacuate his ships.
He still believed that his recent comrades would never follow through on
their threats. Holland also doubted that force would be necessary. He wrote
in his report of the operation, ‘My answer to ask for a final reply before fire
was opened was based on my appreciation of the French character since I
have often found that an initial flat refusal will gradually come round to an
acquiescence’.24 Leadership on both sides misinterpreted the situation to
the extent that they refused to believe that the other party would consent
to the use of force. However, it was the British command to fire directly
at the fleet without first giving the French the opportunity to evacuate
that would in later years be held up as a callous and brutal display of vio-
lence. The broader context of the situation was also relevant. Britain was
under threat of imminent invasion. Taking action to decisively neutralise
the French fleet would free up British ships from shadowing their French
counterparts and allow them to return to home waters to patrol against
invading forces.25 Even if Somerville had reached an agreement on disarm-
ing the fleet, it could not have been carried out within six hours given the
approaching darkness as well as the impending arrival of reinforcements.
Seeing how Operation Catapult unfolded in real-time on 3 July makes it
clear that both Somerville and Gensoul were making decisions in a highly
uncertain environment. With France newly withdrawn from the war, it
was still unclear how official sentiments and loyalties would align them-
selves. The British were, in all respects, very limited militarily. They were
preparing for a defensive phase of the conflict, which would require the
most efficient use of their naval resources. There was also a strong desire
to dispel uncertainty and bolster morale within Britain while encourag-
ing pro-British sentiment in America. In this sense, the willingness to
take hostile action against the fleet was tremendously symbolic. Decisive
action against the fleet was a strategic manoeuvre, but it was also a power-
building exercise. Rhetoric would play a critical role in fostering these
images of British power.
Revision: Redrafting Press Releases and Statements

In his typically sarcastic style, Alexander Cadogan wrote on 3 July of
his role in writing ‘a draft to French explaining why we were blowing
their fleet out of the water’. [sic]26 The bombardments at Mers el-Kébir

25 Martin Gilbert, Winston S. Churchill, Volume VI Finest Hour 1939–1941 (Hillsdale,
Michigan: Hillsdale College Press, 1983), 630.
(London: Cassell, 1971), 309.

Revision: Redrafting Press Releases and Statements 83
launched a rhetorical battle in which Vichy and Britain each presented

their own interpretation of events. Their respective arguments were
reproduced and analysed throughout the mass media and were the sub-
ject of much public discussion. Furthermore, each press release or speech
was written with one eye on American opinion. British diplomat Robert
Vansittart was at the time suggesting a more robust programme of pro-
British propaganda in the United States ‘to meet the Franco-German
drive against us there’.27
We begin by picking up the trail of Britain’s initial draft press release.
While operations were unfolding at Mers el-Kébir, officials in London
were working hard to modify their public statements. As the instiga-
tors of Operation Catapult, British planners had the advantage of being
able to anticipate events to a certain extent. Together, the War Cabi-
net and Admiralty finalised a series of initial print and radio statements.
Churchill also reported on the operations in the Commons on 4 July.
Together, these statements mobilised around two themes. First, they
suggested that the operations to contain the French fleet were an inevi-
table outcome of the Franco-German armistice. Second, they argued
that the bombardments did not constitute a rupture in Franco-British
relations. British victory, which could only be secured by carrying out
such determined policies, was the only way to liberate France.
The first announcement concerning the operations against the French
fleet was a radio address. First Lord of the Admiralty Alexander prepared
and edited the text before delivering it on 4 July. Alexander maintained
that Britain was forced to act because it could not in good faith allow
the fate of the fleet to rest on the credibility of German promises. These
claims allowed Alexander to frame the bombardments as unavoidable.
At the same time, by blaming German untrustworthiness, he shifted
criticism away from the wider French nation. His address described the
operations as ‘… the steps we have been compelled to take …’28 He also
praised Somerville and Force H for ‘… not shrinking when it became
inevitable to take the action necessary in their duty towards their country
and the cause of liberty’. Recall how early draft press releases used the
passive voice to suggest that the British government was forced to take
action against the French fleet. This construction re-emerged in Alex-
ander’s statement when he claimed Britain had been driven to action
by an invisible subject. This grammatical formulation was used in the
same way to describe the moment that the British contingent opened
fire. ‘Only when all the alternatives had been rejected did the Navy take
the action which His Majesty’s Government had considered themselves
27 Vansittart to Cooper, 5 July 1940, VNST II 1/8, CCAC.

28 Radio Broadcast, 4 July 1940, AVAR 13/4, CCAC.

compelled to order in the last resort’.29 Alexander’s statement also

changed references from the ‘Pétain’ government to the ‘Bordeaux’ gov-
ernment.30 Pétain remained a popular figure amongst the French public.
British officials were instructed to avoid directly criticising the Hero of
Verdun so as not to alienate French public opinion.
In addition to the radio broadcast, the War Cabinet and the Admiralty
prepared a press statement. It would be released through the Ministry of
Information (MOI). It also emphasised the dishonesty of the German
and Italian victors, the resulting necessity for British action, and the
inevitability of the outcome given Gensoul’s misplaced allegiance to the
new metropolitan government. The article painted a picture in which
British policy in the present would secure Franco-British prosperity in
the future. It cast Britain as the guardian of true French interests, both
in a material and moral sense. ‘HMG … felt that they were compelled,
not only in their own interests, but also in the hope of restoring the
independence of France and the integrity of the French Empire, to take
steps …’31 This and future references to the French Empire recognised
how important overseas territories were to a nation’s legitimacy and
power. And Mers el-Kébir opened a phase of the war in which empire
was central to both France and Britain.32
The press release also undermined the validity of Pétain’s government.
It proposed that altruism, rather than national self-interest, was driv-
ing British foreign policy. When it comes to policy-making, determining
how, or even if, moral and ethical behaviour can exist in harmony with
self-interest has never been an easy endeavour. E.H. Carr has described
‘the place of morality in international politics’ as ‘the most obscure and
difficult problem in the whole range of international studies’.33 However,
in the wake of Mers el-Kébir and in the years to come, the legitimacy of
British policy was rooted in moral arguments. This kind of language had
a central role in structuring the character of Britain’s wartime narrative.
And it has continued to play a critical part in how the Second World War
has been memorialised and remembered.34 It is important to recognise
29 Ibid.
30 This was despite the fact that Pétain’s government moved from Bordeaux to Vichy on
1 July, after the armistice placed Bordeaux in the occupation zone.
31 ‘Proposed Statement to the Press’, July 1940, PREM 3/179/4, TNA.
32 Akhila Yechury and Emile Chabal, ‘Introduction’, in Britain and France in Two World
Wars: Truth, Myth and Memory, eds. Robert Tombs and Emile Chabal (London:
Bloomsbury, 2013), 88.
33 E. H. Carr, The Twenty Years’ Crisis, 1919–1939 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016),
135.
Vintage Books, 2006), Chapter 13.

the persuasiveness, or at the very least, the emotive power that these
kinds of arguments could have, even if the underlying decision-making
process was much more complex.
British policy-makers were eager to drive support away from Pétain’s
government. But they continued to protect the idea of Franco-British
cooperation. To do this, the press release was edited to downplay any
suggestion of overt Franco-British hostility. The original text depict-
ing the Franco-German armistice stated that the French government
‘undertook by the terms of the Armistice to hand over their Fleet to the
enemy’.35 The words ‘hand over’ were changed to ‘allow’, transferring
agency from the French to the Germans.36 The following excerpt shows
how aggressive words were replaced with more neutral options. Note in
particular how the word ‘hostilities’ was replaced with ‘operations’.
H.M.G. deeply regret that the French Admiral in command at Oran refused to
accept any of the conditions proposed, with the inevitable result that hostilities
broke out between British and action had to be taken against the French vessels
in that locality. These hostilities (operations) are still proceeding.37
This excerpt proposed that Catapult, and the bombardments that
resulted, were an ethical, if still tragic, course of action during a time
of war. Knowing that the environment in which these operations were
planned was highly complex, it is striking how British rhetoric ironed out
any operational wrinkles and uncertainties. The tone of these discussions
and the rhetoric they produced made it easy to forget that Somerville had
planned to prompt the French ships to evacuate before firing at them
directly. Moreover, in War Cabinet discussions, members decided not
to offer compensation to the families of French personnel killed at Mers
el-Kébir. It was thought that doing so could be ‘misinterpreted’ as an
apology and acknowledgement of wrongdoing.38 Mers el-Kébir was to
be a tragedy, but a justified one.
While this draft was being edited, the War Cabinet met to determine
when the statement should be released to the local press. They also
talked about writing a second announcement for the American press.39
These preparations anticipated the impact that the operations would
have at home and on a more global stage. In the days following the bom-
bardment, Political Intelligence Reports compiled by the Foreign Office
concluded that the general effect, ‘especially in the United States, has
35 ‘Proposed Statement to the Press’, July 1940, PREM 3/179/4, TNA.

36 Ibid.
37 Ibid.
38 War Cabinet Conclusions, 4 July 1940, CAB 65/8/5, TNA.
39 Ibid.

been to enhance British prestige’.40 British ambassador in Washington

Lord Lothian also sent news that the American response had been posi-
tive. However, he warned that German and French sources would be
anxious to portray the French as victims. British publicity, he suggested,
should be prepared to counter French attempts to depict the operations
as ‘treacherous’.41
Lord Alexander delivered a second radio broadcast, this time for an
overseas audience. It spared no effort in emphasising the tragic neces-
sity of the operations while hinting at the continuity of Franco-British
comradeship. The following edited excerpt highlighted Britain’s lack of
options when it came to the French fleet: ‘In British ports and at Alex-
andria we are thankful to have been able to (had to) taken under our
control …’42 The substitution of ‘had to’ in place of ‘are thankful to’ and
‘been able to’ pressed home the absolute necessity of the operation and
justified its tragic results. This word choice and construction made Brit-
ish action unavoidable while simultaneously highlighting its determina-
tion to successfully carry on the war. The same address also reinforced
the moral superiority of the British, Imperial and American struggle: ‘…
united as never before in defence of Christianity, of civilization and of
the kindly, tolerant way of life which we have evolved through the centu-
ries and which has developed with equal calm and fruitful benevolence
among our sister nations the British Commonwealth and in America.
Our cause is wholly righteous’.43 After the statement was released over
the radio in mid-July, Alexander concluded that the American response
had been generally positive. He described the American public as hope-
ful that the British public were as resolved in the upcoming battle as their
leadership appeared to be.44
Churchill’s 4 July Commons address was the most exhaustive official
response to appear in the aftermath of the attacks. It would be repro-
duced extensively in the press. The tone of this speech was similar to
the press releases in some respects, but it offered a clearer delineation
between Pétain’s government and the French nation as a whole. It was
also more overt and grandiose in framing the bombardments as a prom-
ise of eventual British victory. Churchill shifted the focus away from the
violence of the operations at Mers el-Kébir. He presented British policy
towards the fleet not as a choice, but as a logical response to the French
40 Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 9 July 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA.

41 Lord Lothian to Foreign Office, 9 July 1940, FO 371/24321, TNA.
42 Broadcast, ‘The Work of the Royal Navy Today’, 13–14 July 1940, AVAR 13/5, CCAC.
43 Ibid.
44 Ibid.

refusal to guarantee its security, away from Axis hands. Before analysing
the details of Churchill’s address, it is important to note that Lord Hali-
fax delivered an identical speech that day in the House of Lords explain-
ing and justifying what had taken place at Mers el-Kébir. As Prime
Minister, Churchill’s speech was given more attention than Halifax’s.
The relative value attached to Churchill’s words shaped how Catapult
was conceptualised at the time and how it is remembered today. The
persuasiveness of rhetoric can shift according to who is doing the talking,
as in the case of these identical speeches delivered by Churchill and Hali-
fax in 1940. But time can also appreciate or erode rhetoric’s perceived
value. In this case, victory in 1945 validated much of Churchill’s rhetoric
and obscured the more complex and uncertain environment in which it
was initially delivered.
Early in the speech, Churchill linked the idea of British victory to
French liberation: ‘But the least that could be expected was that the
French Government, in abandoning the conflict and leaving its whole
weight to fall upon Great Britain and the British Empire, would have
been careful not to inflict needless injury upon their faithful comrade, in
whose final victory the sole chance of French freedom lay and lies’.45 The
choice of language in this excerpt, compared to that of the draft press
releases, was much more aggressive. Emotive verbs such as ‘abandoning’
and ‘inflict’ suggested malicious intent on the part of the French govern-
ment. On the other hand, Britain retained its role as France’s protector,
and eventual liberator. After denigrating the new government, Churchill
severed the will of the French people from the defeatist origins of the
Bordeaux/Vichy government. ‘Thus I must place on record that what
might have been a mortal injury was done to us by the Bordeaux Govern-
ment with full knowledge of the consequences and of our dangers, and
after rejecting all our appeals at the moment when they were abandoning
the Alliance, and breaking the engagements which fortified it’.46 Describ-
ing the French fleet as a ‘mortal injury’ to the British war effort left no
doubt as to the validity of the British actions that followed. This sentence
also made it clear that the ‘Bordeaux Government’ could not claim the
popular support that would have made it a representative government.
The following paragraphs built on this notion of illegitimacy.
Churchill described the final weeks of June and the Franco-German
armistice negotiations: ‘There was another example of this callous and
45 Hansard HC Deb vol. 362 col. 1043 (4 July 1940) http://hansard.millbanksystems

.com/commons/1940/jul/04/french-fleet.
46 Ibid.

perhaps even malevolent treatment which we received, not indeed from

the French nation, who have never been and apparently never are to
be consulted upon these transactions, but from the Bordeaux Govern-
ment’.47 This claim was unsubstantiated and greatly exaggerated. In
the chaos of the exodus, most refugees and even French soldiers met
Pétain’s call for an armistice with relief.48 Pétain’s government did not
experience serious dissent, and remained relatively popular until at least
the close of 1941.49 What Churchill’s speech and the two draft press
releases tried to do was maintain the illusion that the French nation
remained tied to the Allied war effort. They did this by distancing the
French public from the metropolitan government. They implied that the
French people favoured Britain and de Gaulle’s Free French movement.
France’s new government, referred to as the ‘Bordeaux Government’
and later the ‘Vichy Government’, was described not only as unrepre-
sentative of the French people but also as an illegitimate governing body.
This policy was in place throughout the war. On 8 July, Churchill’s intel-
ligence advisor Desmond Morton asked the MOI to instruct the BBC
and press agencies to refer to the metropolitan government as the ‘Vichy
Government’ or ‘Pétain Government’ but not ‘France’ or the ‘French
Government’.50
It is important to recognise this rhetorical continuity in the idea of
Franco-British cooperation. Assessments of the Franco-British relation-
ship, especially after Mers el-Kébir, have tended to conclude that Britain
rapidly became ‘a former ally, now more or less at war with France’.51
Michael Dockrill has described Britain’s policy after the French defeat
as one of ‘neo-isolationism’ in which France was viewed with both ‘con-
tempt and hostility’.52 David Reynolds views 1940 as the watershed
moment that not only turned Britain decisively away from the Franco-
British alliance but also from continental commitments more broadly.53
47 Ibid.
48 Hannah Diamond, Fleeing Hitler (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 113, 116.
49 Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order 1940–1944 (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1972), 38.
50 ‘Vansittart Committee’, 8 July 1940, GB165-0269, Middle East Centre Archives
(henceforth MECA).
51 Nicholas Atkin, The Forgotten French: Exiles in the British Isles 1940–44 (Manchester,
2003), 254. Simon Berthon argues similarly that in the wake of the Franco-German
armistice, ‘two Frances had emerged’. Simon Berthon, Allies at War (London: Thistle
Publishing, 2013), 32.
52 Michael Dockrill, British Establishment Perspectives on France, 1936–40 (Basingstoke,
1999), 157.
53 David Reynolds, ‘1940: Fulcrum of the Twentieth Century?’, International Affairs, 66,
no. 2 (April 1990), 325, 333.

But these public squabbles were only one side of a much more nuanced
policy. By refusing to recognise Pétain’s government as a legitimate rep-
resentative of French interests, British rhetoric kept the notion of alli-
ance alive. And it kept France’s seat at the victor’s table warm.
Churchill closed his address by stressing that the War Cabinet had
embarked upon Catapult with a heavy heart but a unanimous sense of
purpose.54 He suggested that the bombardment, however tragic, was an
eventuality for which the Cabinet and Admiralty were well prepared.
Unsurprisingly, he did not explain why the ships had not been evacuated
prior to the bombardment. Portraying the outcome at Mers el-Kébir as
an ‘unfortunate necessity’ normalised the deaths of the French sailors
as causalities of war. Churchill made a strong case that accomplished
three things: it validated British actions, defended the French citizenry
and castigated the Bordeaux government for betraying its British allies
and the French nation. In concluding, he employed a classic rhetorical
technique. He offered his audience the opportunity to digest the facts
for themselves and reach a logical conclusion. ‘I leave the judgment of
our action, with confidence, to Parliament. I leave it to the nation, and
I leave it to the United States. I leave it to the world and to history’.55
Churchill understood that rhetoric was persuasive. More importantly,
he understood that it needed to strike a delicate balance between pre-
senting an argument for consideration and telling the public what to
think. Moreover, we know that the War Cabinet was confident that the
British public would welcome a strong policy towards the French fleet.
This knowledge makes Churchill’s statement, which boldly called for the
world to judge British actions at Mers el-Kébir appear far less daring.
Churchill’s Commons speech was received with feelings of relief and
approval from both sides of the House. Members cheered for two full min-
utes. Even Chargé d’Affaires Roger Cambon acknowledged its undeniably
warm reception. Writing to Foreign Minister Baudouin, he described
political and popular attitudes in Britain as determined. He saw a refusal
to compromise on issues that were perceived to affect the prosecution of
the war.56 Cadogan wrote in his diary that day that while the results of
Catapult were not ideal, ‘Winston was able to make good enough show-
ing in House and had a good reception’.57 [sic] John Colville echoed this
54 Winston Churchill, ed., Into Battle: Speeches by the Right Hon. Winston S. Churchill,
PC, MP (London: Cassell, 1941), 240–241.
55 Hansard HC Deb vol 362 col. 1049 (4 July 1940) http://hansard.millbanksystems
.com/commons/1940/jul/04/french-fleet.
56 Cambon to Buadouin, 5 July 1940, 10GMII/336, MAE.

sentiment, adding that global reactions were supportive of the bombard-

ments. ‘There is a strange admiration for force everywhere today’, he
mused.58 In a letter to his wife on 4 July, Somerville wrote that he feared
that the images of British naval forces slaughtering their former allies
would ‘rouse the world against us’.59 He was wrong. Immediately after
the bombardments, there was a strong consensus, not only within Britain
but also in the United States, that this was the right policy. Churchill’s
private secretary Eric Seal wrote to his wife regarding the address, ‘The
speech was good, but not better than the others … I think that there had
been a great deal more anxiety than we realized about the French Fleet,
and there was a general relief that such vigorous action had been taken’.60
Free French leader General Charles de Gaulle had no role in deciding
British policy towards the French fleet. But it was important that he also
responded publicly to the operations. Spears reported to Churchill that
de Gaulle’s reaction to the bombardments was ‘on the whole better than
I should have expected’.61 De Gaulle’s radio address on 8 July echoed
the British official line, arguing that Axis forces would have used the
French fleet against Britain, as well as the French Empire.62 He called
on Frenchmen to see the tragedy as one more step towards victory, or
from the ‘point of view of victory and deliverance’.63 After the war was
over, de Gaulle wrote in his memoirs of his ‘pain and anger’ over Mers
el-Kébir and his particular dislike for the way the British appeared to
‘glory in’ the operations.64 However, he would also admit privately that
he understood why the British had carried out the bombardments.65 His
willingness in 1940, however grudging, to publicly support the efficacy
of the bombardments showed just how little room de Gaulle had to act
unilaterally. After all, de Gaulle was still a month away from concluding
the 7 August memorandum of agreement, which would establish the
juridical and financial basis of the Free French movement.66 De Gaulle’s
58 John Colville, Diaries, 4–5 July 1940, CLVL 1.3, CCAC.

59 Somerville to his wife, 4 July 1940 in The Somerville Papers, ed. Michael Simpson
(Aldershot: Scholar Press, 1995), 108.
60 Gilbert, Finest Hour, 642–643.
61 Spears to Churchill, July 1940, PREM 3/276, TNA.
62 ‘Allocution de Géneral de Gaulle, Daventry en Français’, 8 July 1940, 9GMII/295,
Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (henceforth MAE).
63 Ibid.
64 Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs of Charles de Gaulle, vol. 1, The Call to
Honour, 1940–1942, trans Jonathan Griffin (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1955), 92.
65 Julian Jackson, A Certain Idea of France: The Life of Charles de Gaulle (London:
Penguin, 2018), 140.

rhetorical alignment with British policy was a way to assert the power
and legitimacy of his movement. By sanctioning such high-level policies,
de Gaulle also supported the idea of a continuing Franco-British alli-
ance. In this construction, his movement carried the torch of authentic
French interests. At this early date, publicly challenging British policy
towards France and the French Empire would only reveal the weakness
of de Gaulle’s movement, and its reliance on British resources. Later,
we will see how this need to preserve the outward appearance of Anglo-
Free French cooperation constrained both British and Free French
policy-making.
In Vichy, officials were working hard to respond to the bombardments
as news arrived from Mers el-Kébir and Alexandria. Like his British
counterparts at the Foreign Office, Baudouin was also trying to win sup-
port for the metropolitan government within American circles. Pétain
even penned a three-page letter to Roosevelt urging him to see the injus-
tice of British policy.67 Baudouin issued French communiqués to the
US State Department with the expectation that the information would
be passed on to the American press. These communications presented
a straightforward case of British aggression, describing the ultimatum,
the use of magnetic mines to seal off the port and the final command to
open fire.68 High commissioner for propaganda, Jean Prouvost reported
to the American press that Churchill had undertaken an act of aggres-
sion ‘unprecedented in history’.69 Baudouin also prepared talking points,
which he sent to French embassies and consulates around the world. He
hoped to validate the position of the Vichy government by depicting the
bombardments as an unwarranted act of violence. Writing to the diplo-
matic mission in Berne, Switzerland, Baudouin described the attacks as
‘brutal and inexcusable’.70 He instructed diplomatic staff to stress to the
public and government officials in their respective postings the terrible
nature of the British attack. They should also try to discredit British jus-
tifications for the bombardments by focussing on Churchill’s tendency to
‘alter the truth’ of what had happened.71 Despite Baudouin’s best efforts,
however, the results were disappointing. Only international responses
from Spain, Bulgaria and Romania appeared to be sympathetic to the
67 Pétain to Roosevelt, 4 July 1940, 10GMII/336, MAE.

68 ‘Agressions Anglaises, Mers el Kébir, Réactions étrangères’, 3 July 1940, 10GMII/336,
MAE.
69 Ibid.
70 Baudouin to Berne, 5 July 1940, 3P102, Dossier 3, Service Historique de la Defense
(henceforth SHD).
71 Baudouin to French Diplomatic Posts, 6 July 1940, 10GMII/336, MAE.

French plight.72 Within metropolitan France, guarding the sovereignty

of the unoccupied zone, the fleet, and the empire was of primary impor-
tance to France’s survival as a nation state. Vichy rhetoric that portrayed
British operations as violations against the rights of a sovereign and neu-
tral country was first used in response to the bombardments at Mers
el-Kébir. But this tactic would be repeated after fresh offences in Dakar,
North Africa and the Levant. The desire to shore up or salvage French
sovereignty would also motivate collaborationist policies initiated by
Pétain and later expanded upon by Pierre Laval when he returned to
power in April 1942.73 Moreover, the French decision to break off for-
mal diplomatic relations following the bombardments was, not unlike
the British case, a way to underline the symbolic importance of a strong
response. Roger Cambon explained his resignation and departure from
London in a note to Churchill and Halifax. In it, he described hear-
ing Churchill’s Commons speech and knowing that the events that had
taken place over the last few days, and the British descriptions of them
made it impossible to continue in his current position.74
The strategic context that developed after the French capitulation
was both limiting and highly complex. Britain needed to demonstrate
its resolve to continue the war yet was in no position to place boots on
the ground in an offensive assault against the Germans. Action against
the French fleet was one of the few options available at the time. It was
mobilised to serve a highly symbolic purpose in addition to fulfilling stra-
tegic considerations. The metropolitan French government was likewise
in a tenuous situation. It had to respond to the attacks in a manner that
strengthened its position as a non-belligerent, avoided German reprisals
in the unoccupied zone and increased its own legitimacy at home and
abroad. The press provided a platform to air and refine these debates.
Going to Press: French and British Responses

After officials in Britain and metropolitan France released their state-
ments in print and via radio broadcasts, they were reproduced and anal-
ysed throughout the press. The bombardments at Mers el-Kébir became
a benchmark that was used to interpret and give meaning to future
operations. Several themes emerged on both sides of the Channel, which
72 Incoming telegrams to Baudouin from diplomatic posts, 9 July 1940, 10GMII/336,

MAE.
73 Mark Mazower, Dark Continent: Europe’s Twentieth Century (London: Penguin, 1999),
152.
74 Cambon to Baudouin, 5 July 1940, 10GMII/291, MAE.

Going to Press: French and British Responses 93
became central to French and British wartime narratives throughout

the conflict. On the British side, press and popular opinion approved of
military operations that they viewed as moving in the direction of ulti-
mate victory. On its face, this statement seems unremarkable. But we
must consider this response in the context of British and Free French
operations against French imperial territory. Violent clashes, even with a
presumptive or former ally, were rapidly justified within the broader con-
text of the war. The British press vindicated and praised the action taken
towards the French fleet. The notion of inevitably played a leading role in
official explanations of the operations. This sentiment was even more evi-
dent within the British press. The bombardments were interpreted using
a combination of nostalgic historic imagery and emotive language. In this
arena, Churchill was arrayed alongside other historic British heroes. The
Vichy French press took a line that was very similar to Baudouin’s press
releases. It sought to reassert France’s status as a sovereign nation with
a great empire. British ‘aggressions’ were immoral because they contra-
vened the rights of a neutral nation during a time of war. At the same
time, the press tried to make sense of France’s position by looking back to
how the war had been fought since 1939. France was portrayed as a vic-
tim. Fighting under the long shadow of Britain’s historic perfidy, France,
it was argued, had shouldered the entire burden of the war.
On 5 July, Cambon summarised the response to Mers el-Kébir across
the British press: ‘The English press is unanimous in approving the deci-
sion of the British government to seize the French fleet by force’.75 The
Guardian alone published a total of twelve articles concerning the fleet
in its 5 July edition, eclipsing all other topics. Within Britain, the bulk of
the press commentary on Catapult appeared between 5 and 6 July. Many
articles used Churchill’s Commons address as a starting point to describe
and analyse the operations. This approach was unsurprising given the
limited availability of first-hand information. The press, however, did
more than reiterate the official response. Many stories expanded upon
early press releases and broadcasts. They created an emotional narra-
tive in which historic British victories and long-gone statesmen became
guarantors of a future victory. An article in The Guardian described the
reception to Churchill’s speech in the House of Commons. ‘One liked
to think there was a cloud of unseen witnesses, not strangers to West-
minster either, nor untried in ordeals of England wishing the Commons’
House well in this moment of destiny – Pym and Hampden, Walpole
and Chatham, Fox, Burke, Pitt, Wellington and Gladstone. For of what
75 Cambon to Baudouin, 5 July 1940, 10GMII/336, MAE.

was Mr Churchill speaking – “The eve of battle for our native land”’.76
This article did more than vindicate Churchill’s actions. It implied that
victory itself was simply a matter of time and that Mers el-Kébir was the
first step towards this great ‘destiny’. The article went on, ‘… the cheers
were loud and sustained, and one particularly noticed Mr Chamberlain
foremost in the demonstration waving his order papers’.77 This imagery
captured the symbolic passing of power to Churchill. Although he had
held the Premiership since May, Churchill had yet to receive the full
approval of the House and the British citizenry. Yet, less than two weeks
after the conclusion of the Franco-German armistice, The Observer was
already making room for Churchill in the annals of British history. ‘He
took his place with the greatest of our historic men. He ranked with
Cromwell and Chatham’.78
The Times, which followed the government line most closely, also had
high praise for Churchill. The highest commendations were linked to his
speech and its thunderous reception. ‘It is not often that the House is
so deeply moved. The Prime Minister’s speech matched a theme which
had the qualities of a Greek tragedy, and it will live as one of the most
memorable in the history of Parliament’.79 Another article described the
reaction to his address. ‘… and the whole House rose to cheer loudly and
with a note of fierce resolve his declaration that the war should be pros-
ecuted with the utmost vigour until the righteous purposes for which we
entered upon it had been in all respects fulfilled’.80 In all of these descrip-
tions, Churchill was no longer just a politician who had backed a popular
policy. He had been vaulted to historic greatness. And he became the
embodiment of British resolve in the ongoing conflict. This was despite
the fact that the battle was just beginning.
The press also praised Churchill’s distinction between the French
population and their leadership. The Guardian’s former Paris correspon-
dent criticised Admiral Gensoul as a tepid character who had abandoned
his sense of honour and the Franco-British alliance.
From what I know of Admiral Gensoul, he must have been completely under
the thumb of his Bordeaux masters. He was reactionary in his political views
and was regarded in naval quarters as unimaginative, unenterprising and
76 Our Political Correspondent, ‘Commons Scene: Prime Minister’s Moving Speech’,

The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 5.
77 Ibid.
78 J.L.G., ‘The French Fleet: The Soul of Tragedy’, Observer, 7 July 1940, 6.
79 Parliamentary Correspondent, ‘Commons Emotion; Whole-Hearted Approval of
Decision’, The Times, 5 July 1940, 4.
80 ‘Peace “Whispers” Repudiated; Prime Minister’s Ovation’, The Times, 5 July 1940, 4.

scarcely intelligent. It was this ‘dull dog’ … who gave the ghastly order to his
men to go and fight the British.81
The article described the ‘abyss which the battle of Oran has revealed
between the Bordeaux Government and the common people of France …’82
A photograph of Gensoul, which was published in The Times was cap-
tioned, ‘Admiral Gensoul in command of the French Fleet at Oran. He
refused to adopt any of the honourable alternatives offered by the Brit-
ish Government’.83 Editorial content adopted a similar tone. J. Nicholson
Balmer wrote, ‘Sir, - No reasonable person questions the wisdom of the
decision of the Government of Britain in the grim choice set before it at
Oran and we welcome the distinction drawn between the French nation
and its Fascist Government’.84
These articles also invoked images of the past, this time to argue that
French honour remained tied to the Allied war effort. Trying to pin
down an authentic France and to define what it meant to be honour-
able, however, was difficult. What resulted was often a confusing mix
of characteristics borrowed from France’s long history of revolution. ‘It
is difficult to believe that the French people, with all of their proud his-
tory behind them, can be content to become a vassal state, lending their
ancient prestige to the very forces that Revolutionary France and Catho-
lic France have combined in denouncing as a new barbarism’.85 Here,
history was used to provoke a kind of nostalgia or sense of pride for the
past. But this practice came with its own challenges. British references
to history, whether to encourage French resistance or to promise British
victory, had to be skirt around France and Britain’s own less than har-
monious past. The Times cited the 1807 British seizure of the Portuguese
and Danish fleets to justify its operations at Mers el-Kébir. ‘From the
supreme crises of our history we have always emerged with spirit purged
and ennobled’.86 This was a defensive policy that was originally taken to
protect Britain from invasion by Napoleonic forces. As we will see later,
Vichy rhetoric would use France and Britain’s historic rivalry to criticise
British and Free French incursions into its colonial empire.
The congratulatory tone around operation Catapult spoke to a wide
section of the British public, which was demanding that its leadership
81 Former Paris Correspondent, ‘Cost of Bordeaux Cabinet’s Illusions: What Was

Admiral Darlan’s Part?’ The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 2.
82 Ibid.
83 Photo of Gensoul, The Times, 5 July 1940, 6.
84 J. Nicholson Balmer, Letter to the Editor, ‘The French Fleet’, The Guardian, 9 July
1940, 2.
85 ‘Britain and France’, The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 4.
86 ‘A Tragic Necessity’, The Times, 6 July 1940, 5.

take decisive action in prosecuting the war. Mass Observation (MO)

research carried out on 5 July in the London districts of Chalk Farm,
Limehouse, and Hampstead found support for the bombardments. Any
animosity was directed at the French leadership rather than the French
people. One fifty-year-old female commented, ‘I think it’s a damn good
thing. Don’t you?’87 While a few respondents displayed open hostility
towards the French and even understanding for the Germans, these
responses were rare. They were likely to be motivated by long-held indi-
vidual beliefs, rather than being formulated in direct response to Mers el-
Kébir. However, the way that the press elevated Churchill did not always
reflect wider opinion. MO interviews tracking the public reaction to Brit-
ain’s policy towards the French fleet included only one direct reference
to Churchill’s apparently superior leadership.88 The success of actual
operations themselves appeared to be more important than the man or
men behind them. The discrepancy between the exorbitant praise for
Churchill in the press and the more restrained response found by MO
analysts is an interesting point that could be expanded upon after further
research. What is clear is that Somerville’s decision to open fire on the
fleet at Mers el-Kébir was a popular one.
Speculations on the possibility of open conflict with France were
largely absent from the broadsheet press. This concern, however, did
emerge in individual responses to the operations. It was also raised in the
tabloid press. After reading The Evening Standard, a thirty-five-year-old
woman from North London worried that, ‘Petain may declare war on
England’.89 Other respondents expressed a similar concern. However,
broadsheet publications like The Times and The Guardian did not specu-
late upon this possibility. They focused instead on the tragic inevitabil-
ity of the bombardments. The Times confirmed the ‘tragic necessity’ of
events at Mers el-Kébir by showing how united the Commons was in
supporting the action.90 In The Guardian, an article entitled ‘No Alter-
native’ discussed the positive reaction of the Commons to Churchill’s
speech. ‘Heartrending it was, but let there be no mistake about it: the
House to a man and with swelling cheers approved the cruel necessity.
There was no alternative’.91 The message was clear. The bombardments
were unavoidable if Britain was going to be able to prosecute the war
87 The French Navy, 5 July 1940, SxMOA1/2/25/2/G/1, Mass Observation Archives

(henceforth MOA).
88 Ibid.
89 Ibid.
90 ‘Commons Emotion, Whole-Hearted Approval’, The Times, 5 July 1940, 5.
91 Our Political Correspondent, ‘Commons Scene: Prime Minister’s Moving Speech’,

successfully. ‘The need for silence about the French fleet in the past
fortnight will now be apparent to everyone. The most strenuous efforts
have been made by the Government to avoid the painful, but ultimately
inevitable use of force against a recent ally …’92
The press only allocated a few lines to discussing the operations that
had been undertaken to secure French ships in British ports and at Alex-
andria. Some of this silence can be attributed to the fact that negotiations
at Alexandria were still ongoing. News that tentative agreements had
been reached to demobilise ships at Alexandria was not reported until 8
July.93 But we should also bear in mind that the press used the bombard-
ments at Mers el-Kébir to help shape a wider strategic narrative about
Britain’s role in the war effort. In this context, nothing could diminish or
question Britain’s steadfast trajectory towards victory. The non-violence
that had accompanied other meetings with the French fleet, rather than
being celebrated, was used to justify the violence that had occurred at
Mers el-Kébir. The ease with which Britain had taken charge of French
ships in British ports became evidence of how effortlessly the Germans
could have done the same.94 By the same token, facts such as the death
toll of French naval personnel were conspicuously absent from the press.
Showing that British policy towards the French fleet was also sup-
ported by a wider global audience was another way to legitimise it. One
article noted, ‘It is universally agreed that Britain’s action was made
unavoidable. Britain, it is recognized fully, was not in a position to incur
further dangers to the cause which is also that of France’.95 Given earlier
discussions in the War Cabinet, it will come as no surprise that press
agencies were especially keen to demonstrate American approval of
the operations. This tendency was also symptomatic of the very pub-
lic expectation that American intervention would be forthcoming. The
Guardian ran an article containing statements from several American
senators and newspapers, all of which applauded the tenacity of British
action towards the fleet. The article commenced by saying, ‘Britain was
completely justified in attacking the French fleet at Oran. This is the
general feeling in naval quarters in Washington’.96 Between 5 and 6 July,
four further articles reiterated American opinion towards the actions
92 Naval Correspondent, ‘Anxious Days at the Admiralty: Future of the French Units’,
93 ‘Gibraltar Raid: Made by French Planes; Vichy Statement; Warships Demobilised at
Alexandria?’ The Guardian, 8 July 1940, 5.
94 ‘British Action at Oran’, The Times, 5 July 1940, 4.
95 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘France and British Seizure of Ships’, The Guardian, 5
July 1940, 2.
96 ‘Britain Right: Washington View of Oran Battle’, The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 2.

against the French fleet. They argued that American officials and public
support was rallying around the British cause. ‘Mr Churchill’s speech
today in the House of Commons was fully reported on the American
wireless and has created a profound impression here. There is no doubt
that the people of the United States wholly understand and sympathise
with the necessities which compelled Great Britain to attack the fleet
of her late Ally’.97 Quotations from The New York Times, The New York
Herald Tribune and The Baltimore Sun reinforced this idea. ‘American
sympathy is overwhelmingly with Great Britain in her action against the
French Fleet’.98
British policy-makers recognised the symbolic importance of taking
decisive action to neutralise the threat of the French fleet. So too Pétain’s
government understood the significance of the fleet as a symbol of French
sovereignty. The French press also rallied around this idea. Ironically, on
3 July as Admiral Somerville was squaring off against Admiral Gensoul,
Le Temps published a celebratory story entitled ‘The French Navy’. The
article reflected on the 1921 naval conference in Washington. After this
event, the French navy had been granted greater recognition in the French
press and amongst the public. It was praised for its strategically impor-
tant role as an oceanic naval force and a guardian of the French Empire.
French naval policy was, ‘in spite of political fluctuations and unceas-
ing changes of government … worthy of a great country and its global
empire’.99 This article, published only days before the public rupture of
Franco-British diplomatic relations, did not portray the fleet as solely a
military asset. It was an essential part of the French nation and its empire.
The fleet, moreover, was depicted as a symbol of stability and continuity
within France’s often tumultuous political scene. Now, its retention by
Pétain’s government made the fleet more important than ever.
After the bombardments, it was not surprising that the French press
unanimously described the violence at Mers el-Kébir as unjustifiably
aggressive. The French position was depicted as honourable while Brit-
ish actions were painted as dishonest and unsportsmanlike. These argu-
ments asserted the right of the new French government to be treated
as a genuinely neutral nation. The same themes would be refined and
expanded upon as the war continued. They would re-emerge after fresh
instances of British ‘aggression’ in the French colonial empire. But in the
immediate aftermath of the bombardments, the French press response
97 ‘American Approval’, The Guardian, 5 July 1940, 5.

98 ‘American Views on Attack on French Fleet: Overwhelming Support for Britain’, The
Guardian, 6 July 1940, 9.
99 ‘La Marine Française’, Le Temps, 3 July 1940, 1.

was relatively concise, but no less cutting, in its tone and overall mes-
sage. Compared to the extensive response offered by the British press,
the French press was still limited in its ability to print regular editions.
It was also hampered by paper shortages and the broader social turmoil
that had accompanied the eight to twelve million refugees fleeing South-
ward from Belgium and France.100 Many papers simply reprinted official
statements verbatim, and it was not uncommon to see the same story
replicated across different papers.
The theme that was most prevalent in the French press was condem-
nation for the British ‘aggressions’ at Mers el-Kébir. The Vichy govern-
ment’s official communiqué, which was broadcast on the evening of
4 July, appeared in print the following day. Both the official commentary
and material written by press correspondents unreservedly condemned
the attacks. The articles depicted Force H and the British government
more broadly as ‘the aggressors’. The rhetoric described the bombard-
ments at Mers el-Kébir as ‘the aggression, the crime, the attack and
the hostilities’. A number of articles stressed that the attacks had been
planned in secret and that this ‘ambush’ contravened notions of honour-
able behaviour.101 Stories published in Le Temps between 5 and 6 July
condemned British policy as ‘l’agression odieuse et inconcevable’.102 An
official communiqué printed by L’Echo d’Alger undermined the morality
and the legality of British actions. It described Somerville’s order to fire on
the French fleet as ‘le crime que son gouvernement lui avait ordonné’.103
These words redefined the Franco-British relationship. They removed
France from the conflict, which also placed British actions outside
the boundaries of acceptable warfare. This had the effect of making the
bombardments appear at least petty and at worst immoral. The French,
both as a government and a nation, on the other hand, were portrayed as
victims of British violence. Worse, Britain had acted despite numerous
French guarantees that all precautions had been taken to make certain
that the fleet would be protected against German designs.
After Churchill’s Commons statement, Baudouin published a tell-all
piece, in which he examined the state of Franco-British relations since the
outbreak of war in 1939. He argued that since 1940, France had put in
all the effort to mobilise forces for the upcoming battle. Meanwhile, the
100 Mazower, Dark Continent, 188.

101 ‘Rupture des Relations Diplomatiques entre la France et l’Angleterre’, Le Temps,
5 July 1940, 2. ‘Précisions Officielles sur le Guet-Apens de Mers el-Kébir’, L’Echo
d’Alger, 5 July 1940, 1.
102 ‘L’Agression de la Flotte Britannique contre la Flotte Française de Mers-el-Kébir’,
Le Temps, 6 July 1940, 1.
103 ‘Précisions Officielles’, L’Echo d’Alger, 1.

British had hoarded men and materials to protect themselves. Because

of this, the French people alone had borne the suffering that should have
been the common cause of ‘two people’.104 This line of reasoning was not
altogether inaccurate. Martin Alexander has argued that throughout the
phoney war Whitehall remained ‘obsessed with a vision of the onset of
war that came straight from H. G. Wells. … the shape of things to come
admitted only the flattening of industries and cities – and British ones
at that’.105 These fears, which focussed on the spectre of an air war in
Britain, were coupled with widespread overconfidence within the service
units. British military leadership tended to view the French military estab-
lishment as unbeatable.106
Still, the French narrative of victimhood that emerged after the events
at Mers el-Kébir was important. It offered up a new interpretation of the
interwar period. And it created a framework in which the Franco-British
relationship would be assessed through the lens of historic animosity
(both recent and long-past) rather than cooperation. These explana-
tions, both of the French defeat and Britain’s role in allowing this defeat
to happen, shaped the foundation upon which metropolitan France was
supposed to rebuild itself. They situated metropolitan France as a sover-
eign nation with a legal government – not an occupied state.107 Roundly
condemning British ‘aggressions’ was also a way to demonstrate to the
armistice commission Vichy’s integrity and willingness to abide by the
rules laid out in the agreement. In light of what had happened at Mers
el-Kébir, the press reported on 6 July that Pétain had requested greater
leverage to use air and naval forces to protect French territory.108
French responses to Operation Catapult also defined French honour
in a very different way from what was being proposed by Churchill and
de Gaulle. The armistice was portrayed as demanding but honourable.
One article stressed that in the wake of the armistice, France had made
104 ‘Les Rapports Franco-Britanniques depuis le Début des Hostilités: Exposé de M.

Baudouin’, Le Temps, 6 July 1940, 1. ‘M. Baudouin Fait l’Exposé des Relations
Franco-Anglaises depuis le Début des Hostilités’, L’Echo d’Alger, 7 July 1940, 1.
105 Martin S. Alexander, ‘“Fighting to the Last Frenchman”? Reflections on the BEF
Deployment to France and the Strains in the Franco-British Alliance’, in The French
Defeat of 1940; Reassessments, ed. Joel Blatt (Providence, RI: Berghahn Books, 1998),
300.
106 Ibid., 315.
107 Brett Bowles reached a similar conclusion in his analyses of Vichy’s film propaganda.
He argues that before 1942, the Vichy government tried to use propaganda to cre-
ate its own narrative of events, emphasising its sovereignty. Brett C. Bowles, ‘“La
Tragédie de Mers-el-Kébir” and the Politics of Filmed News in France, 1940–1944’,
The Journal of Modern History 76, no. 2 (2004): 357.
108 ‘Dernières Nouvelles’, Le Temps, 6 July 1940, 2.

every moral and material guarantee that it would retain full control of
its fleet. In light of these promises, France could only maintain its hon-
our by not giving in to British demands, and by meeting ‘la force par la
force’.109 Likewise, the actions taken by Gensoul in refusing to accept the
ultimatum were ‘heroic’ and taken in defence of French honour.110 The
notion of French honour was also closely linked to French sovereignty.
In the statement that Prouvost wrote for the American press, he argued
that the French response at Mers el-Kébir was a fight ‘pour l’honneur
de ses drapeaux’.111 Three months later, Vichy propaganda would return
to these same themes. La Tragédie de Mers-el-Kébir, a nine-minute pro-
paganda film that used live footage from the bombardments explained
the event to its viewers, ‘… an English squadron arrives to submit to
Admiral Gensoul a set of conditions that are unacceptable for reasons
of honour’.112 For Pétain’s government, just as for Churchill’s, the fleet
was more than a strategic resource. It was a symbol of power. And for the
Vichy government, it was a symbol of its legitimacy and its sovereignty.
‘La flotte devait rester français ou périr’.113
The responses to Mers el-Kébir that were presented in official state-
ments and reiterated throughout the press distanced the metropole and
the empire from the ongoing war. They did so by constantly restating
how aggressive, unjustifiable, unexpected and dishonourable British
actions were. These same themes will re-emerge time and time again
as British and Free French forces clash with Vichy troops throughout
the empire. After Mers el-Kébir, Vichy’s statements did not mention de
Gaulle’s rival forces. Indeed, calling attention to his presence would only
complicate Vichy’s claims as the sole representative of French interests.
Similarly, because so much of the international press was sympathetic to
the British cause, Baudouin was unable to assert, as Churchill had done,
that he had received any significant support outside of the metropole.
By 9 July, discussions of the bombardments were fading from the press.
A final account from New York described the American reaction as one
of ‘painful surprise’ but admitted that the press was not condemning
British actions.114
That same day, in the Vichy Casino, the parliament voted 624 votes
to 4 in favour of revising the French constitution. The following day a
109 ‘Précisions Officielles’, L’Echo d’Alger, 1.

110 ‘L’Agression Britannique de Mers el-Kébir’, Le Temps, 7 July 1940, 1.
111 ‘Déclaration de M. Jean Prouvost à la Presse Américaine’, Le Temps, 5 July 1940, 1.
112 Bowles, ‘La Tragédie de Mers-el-Kébir’, 361.
113 ‘L’Agression de la Flotte Britannique’, Le Temps, 1.
114 ‘Après l’Agression de Mers el-Kébir’, Le Temps, 9 July 1940, 1. ‘L’Affaire de Mers el-
Kébir Provoque en Amérique une Douloureuse Surprise’, L’Echo d’Alger, 9 July 1940, 1.

second vote gave Pétain the authority to revise the constitution. On 11

July, Pétain issued a series of Acts, which abolished the office of Presi-
dent of the Republic, adjourned parliament indefinitely and gave himself
unprecedented powers to appoint and dismiss ministers, pass laws and
designate his own successor. Pétain became Head of the French State
and the Third Republic ceased to exist.
Conclusion
In the wake of the bombardments at Mers el-Kébir, rhetoric was
deployed on both sides of the Channel as a strategic tool of domestic and
foreign policy. For Britain, it was intrinsic to the policy-making process.
The War Cabinet studied the metropolitan press, diplomatic reports and
intelligence reports. Using these resources, they concluded that action
against the fleet was likely to be popular with the majority of the British
public and American officials. Senior figures in the Admiralty worked
from these expectations as they carefully wrote and revised their press
statements and broadcasts. Studying these communications highlights
the value of Operation Catapult not only as a strategic military venture
but also even more so as a symbolic declaration of absolute determina-
tion to carry on the war. The violence of the bombardments was justified
using language that promised ultimate victory. The British press created
an aura of certainty around these promises, by linking historic victories
with contemporary policy. Within these depictions, France played the
role of a beleaguered nation under the thumb of Germany and the defeat-
ist Pétain government. Its only chance to overcome this domination was
through British victory and rescue. At the same time, British and French
leadership were both eager to gain international and especially American
approval for their policies. British press statements, Churchill’s Com-
mons address and corresponding press articles all alluded to the idea of
American support. In fact, they cited examples of American backing as a
way to justify British policy towards the fleet.
French criticisms of British policy towards its naval forces did not
gain much traction internationally. Only a few nations, including Bul-
garia and Turkey, were supportive. This lacklustre response did not stop
Foreign Minister Baudouin from encouraging his overseas representa-
tives to promote sympathy for the French as victims of a British attack.
However, even he recognised the paucity of international support for
this version of events. Nevertheless, French rhetoric after Mers el-Kébir
is instructive because it laid the groundwork for much of what would
be written over the next two years, before the total occupation of the
metropole late in 1942. The themes that were present in Baudouin’s

Conclusion 103
communiqués and Pétain’s statements were part of a larger narrative.

It attempted to preserve French interests and French sovereignty in the
aftermath of a devastating defeat and armistice. Pétain fought directly
against British claims that his government did not represent true French
interests and he challenged Churchill’s conceptions of French honour.
For Pétain, holding on to French honour meant protecting the sover-
eignty of the French metropole. The Vichy government thus positioned
metropolitan France as a neutral nation in the surrounding conflict. This
allowed it to portray British actions at Mers el-Kébir as both unlaw-
ful and immoral. Moreover, through the press, Baudouin suggested that
French neutrality was a product of Britain’s failure (or perhaps refusal)
to build up sufficient arms and men for the European struggle. They
preferred to barricade themselves on their island, hoarding materials for
their own defensive stand, he claimed.
The events at Mers el-Kébir held major significance for both sides.
For Britain, they were the point of departure for a new and reinvigorated
struggle. For Vichy, the bombardments were the first in a string of wrongs
committed by the British government against the sovereign French state.
In the coming weeks and months, the bombardments would fade from
British memory. But for Vichy, Mers el-Kébir was an event that it would
refer to throughout the war. By late September, a British memorandum
would describe the impact of Mers el-Kébir on the Franco-British rela-
tionship as, ‘a period of intense suspicion and anti-British feeling gradu-
ally readjusting itself to the present attitude, which is the maintenance
of the status quo’.115 However, even if there were fewer visual reminders
of Operation Catapult in British rhetoric, the bombardments lingered
in other ways. British action towards the French fleet was praised by
the British public, American officials and wider American opinion. The
rhetoric chosen to portray and justify Mers el-Kébir helped to construct
an aura of certainty within a wartime context of great uncertainty and
even doubt. And it shaped expectations of how future wartime opera-
tions would be carried out.
115 Enclosure II, ‘War with Vichy Government, Memorandum by the Middle East Joint
Planning Staff’, 27 September 1940, CAB 84/23, TNA.

4 Vichy, the Free French and the Battle
for Imperial Influence at Dakar
in September 1940
Writing in 1943, Budapest-born historian Emil Lengyel emphasised the

strategic importance of Dakar (and the French Empire in Africa more
generally) in deciding the current conflict. The overtly racist and impe-
rialist tones of his book depicted France’s African colonies as a bulwark
against Germany and a source of revitalising power. ‘Africa was a raison
d’être of French imperialism’.1 For Lengyel, the Senegalese port city of
Dakar was an important wartime asset. He argued that Britain should
have seized it from the Vichy government as soon as French forces with-
drew from the conflict in June. However, Lengyel also argued that the
empire bestowed certain cultural obligations on its holders. He praised
the French colonial administration for its humanitarian approach to
imperial rule and criticised the British for holding its colonies at arm’s
length. While the British are fair and treat local populations well, he
argued, they are cold and impersonal. By contrast, within the French
empire, ‘the natives can warm to the French, for whom they feel affinity
and attraction. The sunny disposition of the Frenchman is ingratiating,
and the native too likes to laugh’.2 It feels reflexive, now, to cringe when
reading Lengyel’s descriptions. But they tell us something important
about how empire was being thought about during the Second World
War, not only as a strategic but also a cultural asset.
Alice Conklin has argued that French policy-makers employed a
‘civilising logic’ that justified French colonialism using a rhetoric of lib-
eral values and enlightened rule. This made French colonialism ‘as much
a state of mind as it was a set of coercive practices and system of resource
extraction’.3 This imperial mind-set placed value on the material and
strategic features of a region. At the same time, it linked empire to
1 Emil Lengyel, Dakar: Outpost of Two Hemispheres (Garden City, New York: Garden
City Publishing Co., Inc., 1943), 13.
2 Ibid., 3.
3 Alice L. Conklin, A Mission to Civilize: The Republican Idea of Empire in France and West
Africa, 1895–1930 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1997), 248.
104

Vichy, the Free French and the Battle for Imperial Influence 105
national greatness and power. It was this symbolic importance of empire,

manifested through rhetoric, which became for Vichy a way to assert its
legitimacy. Ruth Ginio argued, ‘In “normal” circumstances, no empire
had ever pleaded for its subjects’ loyalty and legitimacy was quite irrel-
evant. Now, suddenly, France’s colonial subjects were no longer taken
for granted’.4
For General de Gaulle, empire was also a way to enhance the authen-
ticity of his Free French movement.5 Between 26 and 28 August, the
French Equatorial African colonies of Chad, French mandated Cam-
eroon, the French Congo and Oubangui-Chari, joined the side of Free
France. However, this process was not straightforward. The Free French
faced resistance from military leaders in Oubangui-Chari. In the capital,
Bangui, Commandant Cammas encouraged his men to oppose the Free
French. In Gabon, the situation was even more tense. Governor Georges
Pierre Masson declared that Gabon would join the Free French during
the evening of 28–29 August. However, he was opposed by a significant
part of the French population in Libreville. Amidst intense local rivalries,
Bishop Louis Tardy brought Gabon back into the Vichy camp. Tardy
and the Vichy government made the most of this victory, arguing that
Gabon’s loyalty demonstrated the illegitimacy of the Gaullist movement.
A series of Free French assaults on Gabon in September and October
culminated in the invasion of Libreville on 3 November, which fell to
Gaullist forces seven days later.6 These shifts in allegiance marked the
beginning of a series of battles over French colonial territory. Clashes
between British, Free French and Vichy forces were shaped by strategic
concerns. But they were also driven by the belief that empire could con-
fer or remove legitimacy. This notion was especially important as Free
France and Vichy France each asserted themselves as the true voice of
French interests.
The Dakar operations, carried out between 23 and 25 September,
illustrate just how complicated relations between Britain, Vichy France
and the Free French remained at the end of 1940. Each side had pro-
duced its own wartime narrative in which empire played a central role.
However, each side also had to strike a delicate balance between man-
aging public expectations around those narratives and carrying out
4 Ruth Ginio, French Colonialism Unmasked, the Vichy Years in French West Africa
(Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2006), xiv.
1940–42 (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1988), 56. Eric T. Jennings,
Free French Africa in World War II: The African Resistance (New York: Cambridge
6 Jennings, Free French Africa, 41–44.

106 Vichy, the Free French and the Battle for Imperial Influence
operations within an unpredictable wartime environment. Dakar was

strategically valuable in its own right. It was a naval base and commer-
cial port. It had the best harbour facilities in West Africa between Casa-
blanca and Cape Town, as well as a modern airfield.7 But its importance
transcended that of a military asset. An Anglo-Free French defeat here
would mean losing strategically valuable territory. It would also land
twin blows to de Gaulle’s prestige and that of his British patrons. British
officials were keen to maintain the image of solidarity and strength that
had been achieved at Mers el-Kébir three months earlier. This mixture
of motivations impacted how the Dakar operations were conceptualised
and planned in London. War Cabinet personnel were always more reluc-
tant to endorse the operations. They recognised that losses here would
have repercussions beyond military quarters. They risked political fallout
both in the form of criticism at home and a loss of prestige in the eyes of
the metropolitan French and American populations.
Moreover, British desires to encourage pro-British sentiment within
the French metropole and to shore up morale at home caused tensions
with de Gaulle and his Free French movement. Publicly, the British
government backed de Gaulle’s movement as the legitimate representa-
tive of the French nation. At the same time, it did not allow de Gaulle
to participate actively in formulating foreign policy or deciding how to
run the war. In other words, Britain’s approach towards de Gaulle was
to support him officially while avoiding tarnishing its own image in the
event that things went wrong. But when things did go wrong at Dakar,
British officials found themselves taking the bulk of the blame for an
operation that they had tried to portray as a Free French initiative. Des-
mond Dinan has argued that the press and public opinion within Britain
unanimously blamed de Gaulle for failing to capture Dakar.8 However,
rather than criticising the Free French leader, the British press called
for parliamentary explanations. These demands placed the British gov-
ernment, not the Free French movement, in the driver’s seat at Dakar.
This led to a gap between the narratives of the popular press and official
government explanations.
Like the bombardments at Mers el-Kébir, critiques of the Dakar oper-
ations were inspired by a particular understanding of wartime moral-
ity. The British press argued that the decision to withdraw from Dakar
was cowardly. Unconsciously, it was employing classic just war concep-
tions to argue that securing Dakar would serve the common good. In
7 Barnett Singer and John Langdon, Cultured Force: Makers and Defenders of the French
Colonial Empire (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 2008), 235.
8 Dinan, Persuasion, 60.

Vichy, the Free French and the Battle for Imperial Influence 107
this framework, escalated force was justified, even desired.9 Free French
statements had tried to defend the decision to withdraw from Dakar out
of empathy for the local population and a desire to avoid heavy casual-
ties in a fight between Frenchmen. Press and public opinion throughout
Britain criticised both of these arguments because they were inconsistent
with ideas of victory. In this framework, violence was viewed as a neces-
sary precursor to victory.
Anglo-Gaullist relations remained complex in late 1940, but so too did
relations between Britain and Vichy. The uncertainty that characterised
these relationships was a product of the wider contextual instability that
was prominent throughout the autumn. In the closing months of 1940,
the British embassy in Madrid served as a covert backchannel to maintain
communication between Britain and Vichy. Despite this evident willing-
ness on the part of the British government to preserve some ties with
Vichy, more significant was Britain’s refusal to publicly acknowledge
either the legality or the legitimacy of Pétain’s government. The Vichy
government also recognised that it needed to find a balance between its
former ally and its current occupiers. Vichy officials were willing to use
tensions with Britain to gain concessions from Germany and Italy that
would allow them to secure and even expand the French empire. But too
great an escalation in tensions risked further occupation of French terri-
tory, a result that would jeopardise Vichy’s claims of sovereignty.
At Dakar, Operation Menace tried to forcibly shift the loyalty of
French Senegal from Vichy to the Free French. It only deepened the
rift in Franco-British relations that had opened at Mers el-Kébir. And
while British officials would try to distance themselves from the opera-
tions, the Vichy government invoked images of Britain as its hereditary
enemy to make sense of the attacks. This crisis also brought to the fore
another rivalry, between Vichy and the Free French. This social and
national conflict saw each side asserting itself as the legitimate repre-
sentative of the French nation state. The British Chiefs of Staff (COS)
would argue that the Free French, as a movement that was hostile to
the Pétain government, must lead any incursions onto French colonial
territory. They, like the War Cabinet, hoped to avoid giving Vichy the
chance to accuse Britain of taking its colonies for itself. However, as
the retaliatory bombing of Gibraltar by Vichy forces would show, the
metropolitan French government intended to explain Dakar as a crisis
in Franco-British relations and imperial relations more specifically. At
the same time, Vichy deliberately refused to acknowledge the role that
9 James Turner Johnson, Ethics and the Use of Force: Just War in Historical Perspective
(Surrey, England: Ashgate, 2011), 2.

the Free French had played in the operations. This left Vichy and de
Gaulle in the midst of a rhetorical battle in which each side fought to
confirm its own representative legitimacy. Each side saw empire as the
source of its symbolic and strategic power.
Planning Operation Menace

Arthur Marder’s book, Operation ‘Menace’, The Dakar Expedition and
the Dudley North Affair, provides a detailed record of how this opera-
tion was planned and carried out.10 But it does not convey many of the
hesitations and uncertainties that were part of this process. Members of
the War Cabinet and, immediately below that, the Joint Planning Sub
Committee (JPSC) took the lead in planning Operation Menace. The
reports and recommendations provided by the JPSC included the views
of leaders on the ground, namely Edward Spears, General Noel Irwin
and Admiral James Cunningham. To a lesser extent, de Gaulle and his
lieutenants in Carlton Gardens also helped to shape the operation. But as
the expedition was being planned, and even after it had been approved,
it was constantly being reconfigured. The vacillations that characterised
plans to bring Dakar into the Allied camp reflected four concerns.
First, British planners agreed that they had to be prepared to use
force to capture the port. Second, de Gaulle insisted that simply pound-
ing the port into submission using British guns risked undermining the
legitimacy of any change of allegiance. British decision-makers tended to
agree with de Gaulle’s analysis. Third, British intelligence warned that
forces at Dakar were likely to resist British or Gaullist demands. Fourth,
British officials were at the same time trying to predict how Vichy would
respond to an operation against this strategic colonial port. It is easy to
see how these issues complicated the operation. Military planners work-
ing with local intelligence officials viewed force as essential to its suc-
cess. But using British guns to strongarm Dakar into allying itself with
the Free French would compromise de Gaulle’s image and leave the
British open to accusations of imperial encroachment. In an attempt to
bypass these obstacles, policy-makers would try to influence what the
operational force looked like. The force that was assembled reflected the
shared British and Gaullist wish to make the operation look as ‘French’
as possible. This façade, it was hoped, would obscure the overwhelming
British administrative and military power that made the operation pos-
sible. At the very least, foregrounding Free French involvement would
10 Arthur Marder, Operation ‘Menace’, The Dakar Expedition and the Dudley North Affair
(London: Oxford University Press, 1976).

Planning Operation Menace 109
make it easier to counter claims that the operation constituted a resur-

gence in Franco-British hostility.
Late in July de Gaulle, Spears, and Churchill’s valued assistant and
key intelligence adviser, Major Desmond Morton, met to discuss Dakar.
The outcome of these talks was a note, which was circulated on 4 August.
It proposed a mainly Free French operation to secure Dakar for the Free
French and the broader Allied war effort.11 Operation Scipio envisaged
de Gaulle sailing from Britain on 15 August. He would rally the federa-
tion of French West Africa and occupy its capital, Dakar.12 Then, he
would consolidate for Free France the colonies in West and Equatorial
Africa.13 However, de Gaulle was adamant that if he met resistance from
French forces, ‘the whole operation will be impossible and he would in
fact not consider continuing it’.14 Throughout the process of planning
the operations, he repeated his unwillingness to participate in a struggle
between Frenchmen. Somewhat counterintuitively, he simultaneously
accepted that British contingents might use force in case of resistance.
De Gaulle knew that any attempt to gain control over Vichy colonial ter-
ritory would affect broader perceptions of the Free French movement.
And he seemed to think that he could separate his own policies and
views from the actions of his British backers. De Gaulle insisted that in
case of resistance at Dakar, the Free French forces travelling with the
British naval squadron should attempt to establish themselves at another
base: Pointe-Noire in the French Congo. Pointe-Noire was also strate-
gically significant owing to its proximity to Brazzaville, the capital and
governing seat of Afrique équatoriale française (French Equatorial Africa
[AEF]). This change of tack, he stressed, would secure strategically valu-
able territory. But it would also save face. Should the Dakar expedition
fail, de Gaulle hoped to distract any critics with an alternative victory in
the French Congo.15
On 8 August, the War Cabinet asked the JPSC to draw up plans to
capture Dakar. They should prepare for two scenarios. In the first, de
Gaulle would be welcomed as the leader of Free France. In the sec-
ond, the task force would face determined resistance from French West
11 ‘History of Operation Menace prepared by the Naval Staff’, 30 September 1940,

PREM 3/276, The National Archives (henceforth TNA).
12 French West Africa was made up of eight colonial territories: Mauritania, Senegal,
French Sudan, French Guinea, Ivory Coast, Upper Volta, Dahomey and Niger.
13 ‘Forces Navales Françaises Libres, par Le Vice-Amiral Muselier’, August 1940,
AG/3(1)/251 Dossier 3, Les Archives Nationales (henceforth AN).
14 ‘War Cabinet Joint Planning Sub-Committee, Operation “Menace”, Note by the
Secretary’, 8 August 1940, CAB 84/93/25, TNA.
15 ‘Forces Navales Françaises Libres’, August 1940, AG/3(1)/251, AN.

African forces. Telegrams sent from West Africa provided operational

intelligence. Planners noted that anti-British sentiment in Dakar was
growing. In particular, there was a great deal of uncertainty regarding
Governor-General Pierre Boisson’s attitude. Boisson had briefly consid-
ered supporting the continuation of the war from France’s African colo-
nies. However, he chose to remain loyal to the metropolitan government,
a decision that was no doubt influenced by his veneration for Pétain.16
Boisson’s communications with Vichy would show that the Governor
did not think that the new metropolitan government was doing enough
to protect West Africa. Boisson argued that there was a risk that the rest
of French colonial Africa would be lost to the Free French.17 But Brit-
ish planners did not know this at the time. Nor would it stop Boisson
from resisting any attacks. It would also have been difficult for planners
to know for sure how the wider population would respond to such an
assault. Senegal had a complex colonial culture. Its Quatre Communes
(four communes) model had, during the course of the nineteenth cen-
tury, granted the original inhabitants (originaires) some of the rights of
French citizenship while simultaneously preserving the jurisdiction of
Islamic courts. Although units of Tirailleurs Sénégalais (a colonial infan-
try corps) fought in both World Wars, the Communes system had created
hybrid urban environments, including in Dakar, where communities had
French rights but were not culturally French.18
Local attitudes, however, were of secondary importance to military
planners. The service ministries were far more concerned about estab-
lishing the loyalty of French colonial personnel. They were reluctant
to sanction an operation that they believed was likely to be met with
stiff resistance.19 The JPSC believed that the operation would only be
successful if it were carried out by highly trained British forces with a
viable plan of attack and the element of surprise. General Irwin (military
forces) and Admiral Cunningham (naval forces) were named as joint
mission commanders. They would only give the order to land the Free
16 Bernard Droz, ‘Ramognino Pierre, L’Affaire Boisson. Un Proconsul de Vichy en

Afrique’, Outre-Mers 94, no. 354 (2007): 360.
17 Pierre Ramognino, L’Affaire Boisson: Un Proconsul de Vichy en Afrique (Paris: Les
Indes Savantes, 2006), 92–93.
18 Frederick Cooper, Citizenship between Empire and Nation: Remaking France and French
Africa 1945–1960 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014), 6–7. Mamadou
Diouf, ‘The French Colonial Policy of Assimilation and the Civility of the Originaires
of the Four Communes (Senegal): A Nineteenth Century Globalization Project’,
Development and Change 29, no. 4 (1998): 671–675. The Quatre Communes, or Four
Towns, were Saint-Louis, Gorée, Rufisque and Dakar.
19 Peter Mangold, Britain and the Defeated French: From Occupation to Liberation, 1940–
1944 (London: I.B. Tauris, 2012), 51.

French after resistance was subdued.20 These early plans were hidden
from de Gaulle. There was still a great deal of reluctance within the
British bureaucracy to lend unqualified support to a large-scale French
dissidence movement. It was not uncommon to find indifference, and at
times open hostility, within the service ministries towards the develop-
ment of an effective Free French fighting force.21 Rhetorical support for
de Gaulle did not always translate into material support.
By mid-August, however, the JPSC had revised the operation to
include more Free French elements, as Spears and Morton had initially
envisaged. The previous, British-led plan, based on a surprise landing
of British troops at six beaches and only a small Free French contin-
gent was abandoned due to problems of swell.22 The Vice Chiefs of Staff
(VCS), de Gaulle, Spears and Churchill, met on 20 August to discuss
changes.23 In this modified plan, de Gaulle would issue an ultimatum to
the garrison at Dakar. He would call on British support only if resistance
was serious. De Gaulle agreed that if determined Vichyite opposition
continued, ‘… the British force would use all the force in their power to
break down resistance’, in order to install de Gaulle in Dakar by night-
fall.24 At the same time, de Gaulle remained adamant that the operation
should retain as much French character as possible and that it should
make every effort to avoid bloodshed.25
The contradictions and uncertainties at this early date were already
apparent. Both the JPSC and the COS believed that capturing Dakar
would require a great deal of manpower. Vice Chief of the Imperial Gen-
eral Staff (VCIGS) Sir Robert Haining argued that a hostile reception at
Dakar would require the use of ground forces and ‘withdrawals from the
defence of Great Britain which cannot be justified at the present time’.26
General Irwin had similar doubts. He warned that intelligence indicated
‘a marked difference’ between opinions and attitudes of the Dakar gar-
rison and population. At the same time, the War Cabinet knew that forc-
ing Dakar into the Free French camp could compromise the legitimacy
of the operation and jeopardise de Gaulle’s claims to represent popular
French interests. ‘Every endeavour would be made to secure the place
20 ‘Inter Service Planning Staff, Capture of Dakar, 77th Meeting’, 9 August 1940, WO
106/5192, TNA.
21 Dinan, Persuasion, 48–49.
22 ‘Operation “Menace” Report’, 19 August 1940, CAB 80/16/58, TNA. ‘The Dakar
Operation, August and September 1940’, May 1942, WO 232/13, TNA.
23 ‘The Dakar Operation, August and September 1940’, May 1942, WO 232/13, TNA.
24 ‘History of Operation “Menace” prepared by the Naval Staff’, PREM 3/276, TNA.
25 ‘Memorandum by General de Gaulle on Operation “Menace”’, 19 August 1940, CAB
80/16/58, TNA.
26 ‘V.C.I.G.S. Strategy’, 18 August 1940, WO 106/5192, TNA.

without bloodshed, on the plea that an Allied force had come to prevent
the Germans seizing Dakar, and to bring succour and help to the col-
ony’.27 These disparities could hinder an operation whose success relied
upon a favourable local response.28
Despite these uncertainties, the War Cabinet approved Operation
Menace on 27 August. Perhaps, the news that territories in AEF were
rallying to de Gaulle made it more confident that the expedition would
meet little resistance. But the operation was moving forward without a
full picture of local sentiment. Officials had yet to be briefed by Com-
mander Rushbrooke and Captain Poulter, liaison officers with the French
in Dakar. Haining suggested postponing the operation for four weeks
until they had more information on local conditions. But the War Cabi-
net declined.29 Rushbrooke and Poulter were able to convey their intel-
ligence on 29 August, but this was only two days before the expedition
sailed from Scapa, the Clyde and Liverpool. Both officers emphasised
the strength of defences and the loyalty of troops to the commander of
the Dakar garrison and Pétain.30 The official British Admiralty recount-
ing of the last days of August explained that despite these warnings,
nothing could be done. The final approval had already been given.31
Britain’s operational plans also had to consider the possibility that
Vichy would retaliate against threats to its empire. For Vichy, as for the
Free French, empire represented a valuable strategic asset. Its reten-
tion was important to the legitimacy of Pétain’s government. It was the
empire that would ‘compensate France for its defeat’, and sustaining
this myth meant protecting it from any external threats.32 Only a week
before the attacks, Boisson would write to Vichy arguing that the peace
of French Africa was under constant threat as a result of the ‘insidious
British propaganda’.33 Even before de Gaulle consolidated AEF for the
27 W.M. (40) 225th Conclusions, Minute 6, Confidential Annex, 13 August 1940, CAB
65/14/21, TNA.
28 ‘Operation “Menace”, Memorandum by Major-General Irwin circulated for consid-
eration by the Chiefs of Staff’, 27 August 1940, CAB 80/17/27, TNA.
29 ‘Operation “Menace” Memorandum by the Vice Chief of the Imperial General Staff’,
17 August 1940, CAB 80/16/53, TNA. The event was also reportedly held up a further
three days due to ‘misbehaviour by some of the French crews’. Evidently, improved
messing consisting of champagne and frois grois was demanded. Additionally,
the captain’s mistress had disappeared and he refused to sail until she was found.
‘Admiralty Record Office, “Unofficial Account of Operation, Major P. R. Smith Hill,
Royal Marines”’, ADM 199/907, TNA.
31 Captain S. W. Roskill, The War at Sea 1939–1945, Vol. 1, The Defensive (London: Her
32 Ginio, French Colonialism Unmasked, 10.
33 Ramognino, L’Affaire Boisson, 93.

Free French, Vichy officials had discussed using the rise in Anglophobia
caused by Mers el-Kébir to expand overseas at the expense of Britain. A
Staff Study dated 10 July 1940 suggested that the French Middle East
Army could seize Iraqi oil fields at Mosul and Kirkuk.34 Whether Vichy
forces would have, in practice, carried out these operations at the risk
of opening a full-scale war with Britain is debatable. But this kind of
belligerent stance underlines how important empire and even imperial
planning was to Vichy’s claims of sovereignty and legitimacy.
Early in September, as British ships sailed towards Dakar, the War
Cabinet considered a note from COS Secretary, General Hastings Ismay.
He expressed concern about the possibility of reprisals from Vichy, a
risk increased in his view because a lack of secrecy was jeopardising the
operation.35 An earlier War Cabinet session had concluded that the like-
lihood of Vichy declaring war on the British was not very high. However,
retaliations against British colonial possessions were considered likely.36
The Joint Planning Staff (JPS) anticipated several possible reactions: air
attacks on Gibraltar and/or Malta, attacks on British trade in the Atlan-
tic by submarines and active operations by contingents of the French
fleet.37 Even after the departure of the task force, decision-makers were
still arguing over the advisability of the operation. And on the same day
that the War Cabinet was considering Ismay’s warnings, another inci-
dent threatened to derail the operation. A French squadron was on its
way to Dakar.
The British Consul in Tangier and the Naval Attaché in Madrid both
warned London on 9 and 10 September, respectively, that a French
squadron was approaching the straights of Gibraltar. These warnings
were immediately forwarded to the War Cabinet.38 Admiral Dudley
North, Admiral Commanding of the North Atlantic did not try to detain
the ships. Three French cruisers and three destroyers from Toulon passed
through the straights on 11 September. On enquiry, North defended
his actions. Having received no further instructions following the warn-
ings from Tangier and Madrid, he had conferred with Gibraltar-based
34 Robert O. Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order, 1940–1944 (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1972), 59, 61.
35 ‘War Cabinet Joint Planning Staff, Operation “Menace” Note by the Secretary’, 10
September 1940, CAB 84/18, TNA.
36 W.M. (40) 235th Conclusions, Minute 7 Confidential Annex 27, 27 August 1940,
CAB 65/14/26, TNA.
37 ‘Implications of French Hostility Arising from Operation “Menace”, Report by the
Joint Planning Staff’, 10 September 1940, CAB 80/106/3, TNA.
38 ‘Message from Tangier Consul General’, 9 September 1940, NRTH 1/3, Churchill
Archive Centre (henceforth CCAC). ‘Message from Naval Attaché Madrid’, 10
September 1940, NRTH 1/3, CCAC.

Vice Admiral James Somerville. Together, they observed that the French
ships were not attempting to disguise themselves and were acting with
friendly intentions. There was no reason to impede them. The ships were
allowed to pass, and North even sent a friendly message: ‘Bon voyage’.39
In the War Cabinet, this turn of events rocked the foundations of the
operation. Policy-makers tried to estimate how these ships could impact
the success of their plans from a tactical perspective. But their discus-
sions also revealed how intangible factors, such as prestige and credibil-
ity, influenced their willingness to proceed with the endeavour.
One historian has described Operation Menace as a sequel to Mers
el-Kébir, an endeavour to consolidate militarily strategic assets in the
wake of the French defeat.40 This observation overlooks the symbolic
role that such operations could and did play throughout the war. Such
considerations are crucial to understanding the plethora of motivations
that influenced how Menace was planned and carried out, in the War
Cabinet, the Service Ministries and the Free French Headquarters at
Carlton Gardens. British policy recognised that seizing French colonial
territory was in a different category from ensuring that the fleet did not
fall into enemy hands. The politics of these operations were complicated.
This was not because they risked alienating British public opinion. Their
complexity stemmed from the desire to portray any operations involving
French colonial territory as French in character.41 Avoiding accusations
of imperial rivalry was one reason for this approach. Maintaining the
credibility of de Gaulle’s movement as a real alternative to Pétain’s gov-
ernment was a second. The very real need to manage limited wartime
resources was a third.
After the squadron of French ships had arrived at Dakar, British and
Free French decision-making reflected this combination of military and
political concerns. The initial response in the War Cabinet was to cancel
the expedition. On 16 September, Undersecretary for Foreign Affairs
Alexander Cadogan expressed his delight at this outcome.42 ‘The French
ships have forestalled us in Dakar, and so “Menace” is off! I cannot
truly say I am sorry!’43 This decision should also have been a relief to
39 ‘Passage of Three French Cruisers and Three French Destroyers from Toulon
through the Straights of Gibraltar on 11 September 1940’, 8 December 1940, AVAR
5/4, CCAC.
40 Marder, Operation ‘Menace’, vii.
41 ‘Note on Political Considerations of Dakar Movements’, August 1940, PREM 3/276,
TNA.
42 ‘History of Operation “Menace” prepared by the Naval Staff’, PREM 3/276, TNA.
(London: Cassell, 1971), 16 September 1940.

de Gaulle. Only days before, he had told Spears that if the squadron
reached Dakar he did not think the port would come over to the Free
French side willingly.44 However, after the operations were cancelled, de
Gaulle, Spears, Cunningham and Irwin all argued that Menace should
go forward as planned.45 Britain’s Force M had just been reinforced by
two cruisers from the South Atlantic Fleet.46 The prospect of a military
victory made the operation attractive for both Cunningham and Irwin.
For his part, de Gaulle continued to declare that he would not involve
himself in a fight amongst Frenchmen. But he agreed that if the Dakar
garrison tried to stop his representatives from landing, British troops
could use force to install him.47 He wanted to achieve tangible, territorial
gains and protect recent advances in AEF.48 Churchill justified his own
shift in thinking in his memoirs. Although he ‘had no doubt whatever
that the enterprise should be abandoned’, the unexpected zeal showed
by military leadership on the ground, caused him to change his mind.49
The Dakar operations were also deeply political. We know that de
Gaulle did not want his movement to be associated with displays of vio-
lence against other Frenchmen. This attitude was also echoed in British
policy-making quarters. Part of the reluctance to use force was based on
the desire not to alienate metropolitan French opinion. The Ministry of
Information (MOI) warned the War Cabinet that Menace could damage
recent favourable shifts in metropolitan French attitudes towards Britain
and de Gaulle.50 The British Consul in Geneva had recently passed on
information from a Monsieur Ruffin, which suggested that Vichy leader-
ship had asked the press not to attack the British so strongly.51 And in
the autumn of 1940, Vichy and Britain were still exchanging diplomatic
messages through Madrid. While these contacts hardly constituted any
concrete agreement or relationship, they were symptomatic of British
willingness to entertain a broader concept of Franco-British relations
alongside the Anglo-Gaullist relationship. A pitched battle over Dakar
risked jeopardising this delicate balance.
44 ‘Secret Message to Admiral Cunningham from General Spears’, 13 September 1940,

SPRS 136, CCAC.
45 ‘History of Operation Menace Prepared by the Naval Staff’, PREM 3/276, TNA.
46 Roskill, The War at Sea, 315.
48 Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs of Charles de Gaulle, Vol. 1, The Call to
Honour 1940–1942, Trans. Jonathan Griffin (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1955),
121.
49 Churchill, Their Finest Hour, 427.
50 W.M. (40) 255th Conclusions Minute 2 Confidential Annex, 20 September 1940,
CAB 65/15/9, TNA.
51 ‘Télégramme de Consul Britannique, Genève’, 18 September 1940, AG/3(1)/192,
AN.

At the same time, British rhetoric was committed to publicly backing the
Free French as the true representative of French interests and as a symbol of
ongoing Franco-British solidarity. The operations at Dakar needed to main-
tain and even strengthen the credibility of these claims by making it look like
French colonies were queuing up to join de Gaulle. Major General Irwin
conveyed this sentiment to forces participating in the operation when he
emphasised the political importance of installing de Gaulle as a leader within
the broader region of French West Africa.52 Sailing orders for the operation
stressed the need to ‘make every effort clearly to establish the Free French
character of your force.’ This was done in part to avoid dissent from the
residents of Dakar. But it was also intended to preserve the legitimacy of the
operation from a broader perspective.53 The relationship between de Gaulle
and his British patrons was certainly not an equal one. But neither was de
Gaulle completely powerless. In the public eye, the Anglo-Free French rela-
tionship relied on each side reinforcing the legitimacy of the other.
In London, Secretary of State for War Anthony Eden argued that de
Gaulle would not have a political future if he did not proceed with the
operation. Spears warned that ‘the political consequences of ordering
de Gaulle to abandon Menace and proceed to Duala may be serious,
since … they might result in de Gaulle representing himself as abandoned
by the British Government’.54 The outcome of operations at Dakar would
also impact how key neutral countries, including the United States, mea-
sured the strength of the Allied war effort. After the War Cabinet agreed
to reinstate the operation on 18 September, Churchill sent a telegram to
President Roosevelt five days later. He wrote, ‘It looks as if there might
be a stiff fight. Perhaps not, but anyhow orders have been given to ram it
through’.55 The cavalier tone of the message conveyed Britain as a capa-
ble and plucky fighter, a solid investment for American arms and eventu-
ally men. But it also showcased the contradictions that would derail the
operation, between shoring up popular support for de Gaulle’s move-
ment and engaging in an armed struggle against French colonial territory.
Carrying Out the Operation: Using Force

and Saving Face
After being postponed for 24 hours, Menace commenced in heavy fog
at 6:00 on the morning of 23 September. Initial reports received by the
52 ‘Operation “Menace” Dakar’, 19 September 1940, ADM 202/412, TNA.

53 ‘Sailing Orders for Dakar Operations’, 20 September 1940, SPRS 136, CCAC.
54 Ibid. ‘Report on Strategy of Menace’, 17 September 1940, WO 106/5192, TNA.

Carrying Out the Operation 117
War Cabinet from British operational headquarters on board the Bar-

ham indicated that Vichy forces were formally resisting. The Cumberland
had been hit. The resistance that greeted the Anglo-Free French force
dashed any remaining hopes that the garrison would swiftly transfer its
allegiance to de Gaulle. Nevertheless, de Gaulle and his British backers
remained optimistic that they would be able to retain the moral cred-
ibility of the operation. International relations scholar Michael Butler
has argued that the way in which wartime decisions are presented is an
essential part of the process of waging war.56 This idea was reflected in
the language of the official statements on Dakar, most of which were
formulated by de Gaulle and issued by Carleton Gardens. It was also
apparent in the timing of these announcements. As soon as the War
Cabinet realised that Dakar was unlikely to abandon its loyalty to Vichy,
it instructed the MOI to issue a statement explaining the operations
before the Germans had a chance to comment.57 British ministers hoped
to take control of the narrative as quickly as possible, by inserting and
justifying their own version of events.
From onboard the Westernland, de Gaulle radioed appeals to the garri-
son to join the Free French while British planes dropped pro-Allied pam-
phlets to the city’s inhabitants. These messages appeared to have little
effect. Batteries from the French ships Goree Island and Richelieu opened
fire almost immediately after de Gaulle’s unarmed negotiators attempted
to land, shortly after 7:00 a.m.58 Free French forces tried at 1:38 p.m. to
begin landing operations at Rufisque but fierce resistance and poor com-
munications forced them to withdraw at 4:47 p.m.59 De Gaulle and Cun-
ningham lost communication early in the operation and the latter was
unable to locate the transports carrying Free French troops in the heavy
fog.60 At 11:45 p.m. that evening, Cunningham issued an ultimatum to
Governor Boisson. If he did not surrender the garrison by 6:00 a.m. the
following morning, British ships would have no choice but to open fire.
His threat received a by now familiar rejection.61 Back in London, Cado-
gan had regained none of his enthusiasm for the operation. He lamented
in his diary that evening, ‘“Menace” going none too well’.62
56 Michael J. Butler, Selling a ‘Just’ War: Framing, Legitimacy, and U.S. Military
Intervention (Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 10.
57 War Cabinet 256 (40) Conclusions, 23 September 1940, CAB 65/9/18, TNA.
58 ‘Summary of Operations 23–25 September 1940, Westernland’, September 1940,
AG/3(1)/251, Dossier 3, AN.
59 ‘H.M.S. Ark Royal, Cedric Holland, Timeline of Operations’, 29 September 1940,
ADM 199/907, TNA.
60 Roskill, The War at Sea, 317.
61 Force M to Admiralty, 4.50, 24 September 1940, ADM 223/507, TNA.
62 Cadogan, Diaries, 23 September 1940.

The next morning brought no improvements in visibility. British naval

bombardments began at 6:25 a.m.63 The Vichy garrison returned fire
with deadly accuracy.64 Disappointment was high among Free French
and British personnel. The operational commanders were in favour of
stopping the engagement, but de Gaulle was hesitant. He argued, ‘in view
of the ultimatum this could be taken as nothing less than an acknowledg-
ment of complete and absolute failure’.65 Faced with a ‘rather depress-
ing’ situation, the tension between the operation’s political objectives
and the military obstacles it was confronted with was more evident than
ever. Despite his earlier reluctance to use violence against the port, de
Gaulle now found it difficult to see any other alternative. Withdraw-
ing now would place a feather in Vichy’s cap at the expense of his own
movement. He would be hard-pressed to attract followers from within
metropolitan France, or recognition from the United States as a credible
resistance force. Eventually, Cunningham and Irwin agreed to end the
bombardment and try once more the following day.
This decision, which Free French reports stressed was made jointly
between themselves and the British, was no doubt difficult.66 However,
it was the rhetoric surrounding these joint decisions that illustrated how
aware both partners were of the need to shape public perceptions of this
military debacle. Ismay reported to Spears that de Gaulle had ‘suggested
a good temporary face saving’ when he advocated telling Dakar’s inhab-
itants that the bombardment was to cease at his request.67 Goodwill,
rather than a lack of military force, explained the decision to withdraw.
De Gaulle was trying to create an image of moral accountability and
altruism. He deliberately, and understandably, tried to obscure the fact
that his own movement was hardly an unbridled success, and that he
was reliant upon the British for military materials, and indeed political
recognition.
The same telegram stressed that the Anglo-Free French force should
be portrayed as victims of the Dakar garrison’s unsportsmanlike tactics.
‘It is essential to suggest that de Gaulle’s Emissaries were fired at major-
ity wounded … that same applies British who also suffered loss before
returning fire [sic]’.68 This approach foregrounded the good intentions
63 Marder, Operation ‘Menace’, 131.

64 ‘Summary of Operations 23–25 September 1940, Westernland’, AG/3(1)/251, AN.
65 ‘Spears Mission Timeline of Events’, 24 September 1940, SPRS 136, CCAC.
66 ‘Summary of Operations 23–25 September 1940, Westernland’, AG/3(1)/251,
AN. ‘Report of Lieutenant Kaminker and Adjutant Desjardins, Barham’, 23–25
September 1940, AG/3(1)/251, AN.
67 Ismay to Spears, Secret Cipher Telegram, 24 September 1940, PREM 3/276, TNA.
68 Ibid.

of the Free French, whose unarmed negotiators had suffered the indig-
nity of being shot at as they sailed away. British forces had returned fire
only in self-defence. British and Free French rhetoric employed a classic
method, in which war is described as an act of self-defence, rather than
a punitive conflict. This makes it possible to justify engagement in war
as a means of protecting your own nation even while encroaching on the
territory of another state.69 Vichy would use a similar model to criticise
the Menace operations while situating itself as a neutral nation rather
than a combatant. By using these tactics, both sides were acknowledging
the symbolic significance of wartime operations. Rhetoric was employed
to situate the operations within the framework of competing Anglo-Free
French and Vichy French wartime narratives.
On 25 September, officials at the scene and in London debated
how long operations against Dakar should be continued. A War Cabi-
net meeting the previous evening had found most members, including
Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax, Eden and First Lord of the Admiralty
Alexander, in favour of ending the conflict. Members also discussed
two related issues. First, they noted the need to forestall public agita-
tion within Britain in response to the French cruisers being allowed to
pass through Gibraltar. Second, they agreed that abandoning operations
at Dakar would strengthen Vichy’s position.70 British forces bombarded
Dakar for a final time between 9:00 a.m. and 9:25 a.m. that morning
before de Gaulle decided that he should go to Konakry to try and rally
French Guinea. He was concerned that French public opinion would
be irreparably alienated if he were seen to engage his forces against his
countrymen.71
The decision to abandon Menace triggered efforts to salvage the situ-
ation from a rhetorical perspective. Spears immediately sent information
to General Ismay ‘… suggesting a way of presenting the operation to
the public’.72 De Gaulle’s approach to the press focussed upon preserv-
ing the benevolent character of the operation and pinning most of the
blame on the Germans. Churchill took charge of damage control with
the Americans. He wrote to Roosevelt claiming that the operation had
failed because of the presence of Vichy partisans who had ‘gripped and
held down … all friendly elements’.73 Nevertheless, like other public
69 Oliver O’Donovan, The Just War Revisited (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2003), 22.
70 W.M. (40) 258th Conclusions Minute 2 Confidential Annex, 25 September 1940,
CAB 65/15/10, TNA.
71 ‘Spears Mission Timeline of Events’, 24 September 1940, SPRS 136, CCAC.
72 Ibid.

communiqués, he was careful to avoid implying that Vichy had achieved

any meaningful level of popular support. The Free French movement
was still fragile. Strengthening its image relied upon delegitimising
Pétain’s government. In the absence of a military victory at Dakar, rhet-
oric became even more important in this endeavour. Explanations of
the operations were consistent across communiqués issued by Carleton
Gardens and the British Admiralty: numerous French citizens wishing to
continue the fight against Germany had requested de Gaulle’s presence
in Dakar. These reports emphasised the ruthlessness and, by association,
the immorality of the Vichy forces. While still on board the Westernland,
Free French personnel wrote press releases, which were sent through
Cunningham to the London Admiralty Offices and General Ismay for
publication. In a press release that arrived in London on 24 Septem-
ber, de Gaulle used a ‘call of duty’ argument to shift agency away from
the Free French forces. He blamed the failure of the day’s events on a
minority of Vichy leaders under the thumb of the Germans. De Gaulle
argued that he had been ‘called to Dakar by numerous Frenchmen anx-
ious to continue the fight at his side …’ and that these voices had been
suppressed by a small group of men loyal to Vichy and willing to follow
the orders of the German oppressors.74
De Gaulle’s press releases argued that his actions at Dakar were the
product of widespread popular calls for Free French intervention in the
territory. He hoped that readers would identify with this explanation.
Like the press publications that followed the collapse of France, the
statements prepared by de Gaulle’s team placed blame squarely on the
authorities at Dakar. They aimed to legitimise de Gaulle’s movement by
describing how a handful of Vichy officials had opened fire on defence-
less Free French emissaries. And they explained de Gaulle’s decision to
end the operation as a humanitarian initiative rather than a strategic loss.
De Gaulle ‘withdrew his troops and his ships not wishing to be party to
a fight between Frenchmen’.75 He invoked images of numerous ‘true’
Frenchmen who were desperate to join the Free French. He margin-
alised Vichy rhetorically by assigning blame for the bombardments to a
few outlying actors. Blaming the withdrawal on German infiltration and
a handful of French leaders loyal to Vichy also allowed de Gaulle to strip
away the violence of his own actions. In his version of events, he had
answered rather than anticipated calls for assistance. He was a saviour,
not an invader. Free French reports also attempted to turn the British
contingent of the operation into a purely diplomatic force. ‘They [Vichy]
74 Force M to Admiralty, 23.30, 23 September 1940, ADM 223/507, TNA.

75 Ibid.

also opened fire on British ships which were merely observing the situ-
ation, and it was only after they had suffered serious casualties that the
British Fleet opened fire in retaliation’.76 The War Cabinet, however,
was hesitant to publish the communiqué in British papers. It only agreed
to do so after realising that it had already appeared in the American
press.77
Free French descriptions of Menace portrayed the operation in a static
rather than a fluid sense. In other words, they avoided discussing the
operation as a dynamic process, during which each side made calculated
and strategic choices over a period of time. Instead, they directed atten-
tion towards a selection of factors that had motivated the expedition and
to the outcome of the operation. The decisions that were made between
the starting and end points of the operation disappeared from view. This
imposed a sense of inevitability on the events that followed and relieved
agency from the Free French. A 27 September cypher message from de
Gaulle to his French Equatorial African territories and specifically Gen-
eral Edgard de Larminat, Philippe Leclerc, and Governor of Chad, Félix
Éboué illustrated this approach. It was entitled ‘facts which should be
known and repeated’.78 The message contained a list of justifications for
both the initial action and its subsequent outcome. In summary:
1. Initiation of the operation due to requests from elements within
Senegal.
2. Totally French in nature; the British were present only to observe.
3. Following German demands, Vichy sent a squadron to Dakar, which
reinforced the defences and arrested French partisans.
4. The British opened fire only after sustaining causalities.
5. The bombardment was ceased by request of de Gaulle because he
was not in favour of the result it would achieve.79
Even more so than the British operations at Mers el-Kébir, there was a
deep awareness of the need to present the operation as both ethically and
militarily expedient.80 Describing Britain’s role as solely observational
was a blatant lie. Nor was there any evidence that the squadron that had
arrived in Dakar had been sent there as a result of German demands. De
Gaulle was trying desperately to salvage a sense of authority and political
76 Ibid.
78 De Gaulle to Larminat, Leclerc and Éboué, 27 September 1940, SPRS 136, CCAC.
79 Ibid.
80 Again, it is possible to see a real disinterest to engage with or distinguish between
the range of sentiments within the population, particularly when it comes to local
Senegalese inhabitants.

agency. It was clear that he hoped to imply that while military force
could have easily overcome the defences at Dakar, he had deliberately
chosen to withdraw in order to avoid further loss of life. De Gaulle con-
tinued to maintain an almost palpable concern when it came to the per-
ceived legitimacy of his own movement. Until 10 September, only 2,172
Frenchmen had signed up to join the Free French Naval Force despite
early hopes for resistance within both the Naval and colonial spheres.81
Notwithstanding the best efforts of de Gaulle and the Admiralty, the
following days would see strong criticism from the press in Britain, the
United States and, obviously, Vichy. Spears himself acknowledged, ‘…
the effect of Dakar on English and American opinion has been abso-
lutely disastrous’.82 Churchill’s later justifications of the withdrawal as
one of the ‘unforeseeable accidents of war’ admitted that, to the rest of
the world, the operation ‘seemed a glaring example of miscalculation,
confusion, timidity and muddle’.83
Dakar in the Press and Public Opinion

After Anglo-Free French forces withdrew from Dakar, Churchill
received a telegram from Quebec. In it, Harold Rothermere (known for
owning Associated Newspapers Ltd. and for his interwar admiration of
Hitler) described what he saw as a massive gap between the press and
public opinion: ‘Dakar incident ridiculously magnified by carping news-
papers. Nobody in Canada or United States gives a thought to it. Every
Britisher throughout world knows you are winning the war and that is
all that matters’. [sic]84 Rothermere may have been a rather unsavoury
presence on Britain’s political scene. But he identified something that
was very important: the necessity of convincing the outside world that
Britain would win the war. Unfortunately, just as his admiration for
Hitler was extreme in its poor judgment, so too his understanding of
public opinion seemed to land wide of the mark. Public responses that
advocated taking a tough line at Dakar echoed earlier responses to Mers
el-Kébir. They would resurface during Anglo-Free French attempts to
capture the Levant states in 1941. Leo Amery, Secretary of State for the
Colonies, received a letter from MP Robert Bower expressing concern
81 ‘Organisation of Allied Naval, Army and Air Contingents’, 25 September 1940, CAB
66/12/14, TNA.
82 Edward Spears, ‘Meeting at Government House, 14.30’, 1 October 1940, SPRS 136,
CCAC.
84 Rothermere to Churchill, No date, CHAR 2/398, CCAC.

Dakar in the Press and Public Opinion 123
in the wake of the withdrawal. ‘I am at the moment with a considerable

part of the fleet. The feeling about Dakar is very strong. Norway all over
again! It will do the Government a lot of harm unless drastic steps are
taken’.85
Press releases issued by the MOI and published on 24 and 26 Sep-
tember made concerted attempts to convince the public that British
political involvement in Menace was minimal. The Gaullist operation,
the initial press release asserted, was merely ‘accompanied by a British
force, which will lend him full support’.86 De Gaulle was deeply pained
by the fallout from the failed invasions, writing in his memoirs that the
American and British press blamed him for the debacle. Churchill’s
outwardly supportive attitude, he argued, relieved pressure from parlia-
mentary and press sources.87 However, a closer look at the British media
reveals that the issue of blame was far more complicated. The press
did not recognise the operation as an exclusively Free French venture.
Any blame that was levelled at de Gaulle was secondary to criticisms
of the British government. A summary of American responses to the
event concluded with a warning from The New York Times: ‘It would
be folly for the British or their friends to minimize the probable effects
of this defeat’.88 The garrison’s resistance against Anglo-Gaullist forces
was a propaganda coup for Vichy. It was proof that a substantial num-
ber of French forces believed in and were willing to fight for Pétain’s
new government.89 In an often repeated argument, Vichy rhetoric posi-
tioned metropolitan France as a victimised and misunderstood nation,
whose leaders were struggling to protect its empire from the designs of
its greedy former ally.
During and immediately after the Dakar operations, British decision-
makers were closely monitoring the responses emerging in the local
press and developing in public opinion. The operations were given
front-page spreads in news outlets across England and Scotland.90
But specific details about the operations were hard to come by. Brit-
ish and Free French press releases contained few particulars about the
clashes between Vichy and British forces. This resulted in news out-
lets printing data from Vichy alongside the justifications provided in
85 Leo Amery, Bower to Amery, 28 September 1940, AMEL 2/1/31, CCAC.

86 ‘De Gaulle’s Move in West Africa’, The Times, 24 September 1940, 4.
87 De Gaulle, Call to Honour, 129.
88 Our Own Correspondent, ‘Americans on Dakar Adventure, A Major Blunder’, The
Times, 27 September 1940, 4.
89 Martin Thomas, The French Empire at War 1940–45 (Manchester: Manchester
90 Home Press Summaries, 24 September 1940, ADM 1/10321, TNA.

MOI materials.91 The first story broke on 24 September. It summarised

Vichy’s claims that British ships had shelled the port after the ultimatum
was refused. And it printed the MOI’s initial statement, which argued
that German designs on the port made its seizure essential. The MOI
also claimed that ‘friendly elements’ in Dakar had requested Allied
intervention.92 Early British news stories generously recognised the Free
French character of the operation, as titles like ‘De Gaulle’s Move in
West Africa’ and ‘Operations at Dakar: How they Arose, Explanations
by Free French’ show.93 The press also described metropolitan French
leaders as ‘French Hirelings’ controlled by their German masters. This
categorisation made it clear who was really in control of French affairs
and lent further legitimacy to Free French rhetoric. The metropolitan
government was depicted as irrational and deluded, a spent force rely-
ing upon the pretence of imperial power in order to conceal its subservi-
ence to Germany. ‘This blissful ignorance of German and Italian plans
is being assiduously cultivated by the Vichy press and wireless, which
continues to talk about “our magnificent Colonial Empire”’.94
The British press only began to criticise Menace in earnest around 27
September. MOI and Free French press releases continued to defend
de Gaulle’s original intelligence citing considerable French support for
his movement in Dakar and the rest of Senegal. However, press cor-
respondents challenged the wisdom of the operation. The Guardian
called for fuller government explanations: ‘At present the causes of the
blunder remain obscure. The mystery is how so great a mistake came to
be made’.95 The press, arguing that ‘public opinion is disturbed by the
Dakar fiasco’, called for an official explanation and for the outcome of
the operation to be examined in Parliament (an event that did not take
place until 8 October).96
British ministers initially believed that German air raids, which had
commenced earlier in September, would distract public attention away
91 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Vichy’s Efforts to Hold Dakar’, The Times, 25 September

1940, 4. ‘De Gaulle’s Reported Ultimatum: Vichy Decides to “Defend the Colony”’,
The Guardian, 24 September 1940, 5.
92 ‘British Force Shelling Dakar: Vichy Report of Ultimatum’, The Guardian, 24
September 1940, 5.
93 ‘Operations at Dakar: How They Arose, Explanation by Free French’, The Guardian,
25 September 1940, 2. ‘De Gaulle’s Move in West Africa’, The Times, 24 September
1940, 4. ‘Dakar Action Continues’, The Times, 25 September 1940, 4.
94 Former Paris Correspondent, ‘Germany’s Double Game in Morocco’, The Guardian,
23 September 1940, 5.
95 ‘Dakar’, The Guardian, 27 September 1940, 4.
96 ‘Our London Correspondence: London, Thursday Night Public Opinion and Dakar’,
The Guardian, 27 September 1940, 4.

from international issues. Information gathered by Home Intelligence

(the social research arm of the MOI) just as the raids were beginning had
concluded that the public was prioritising questions of home defence.97
Particularly in London, residents faced a plethora of daily concerns.
There was growing resentment in the East End due to a lack of deep
shelters.98 And the MOI had earlier instructed the press to limit the pub-
lication of photos showing bomb damage in London so as not to dampen
public spirits.99 Surveys carried out in late September and early Octo-
ber claimed that Londoners and the ‘vast masses of largely inarticulate
people’ showed little interest in Dakar, being preoccupied with nightly
bombing.100 However, regional information officers reported a ‘violent
reaction to the Dakar incident’. Outside of London, the decision to back
down from the confrontation was generating widespread criticism. ‘To
win this war we must take the gloves off and fight’.101 Press summaries
compiled by the British Admiralty noted that strong criticisms of Dakar
in the London press were juxtaposed with reports that praised the morale
of the British people under nightly bombing raids.102
The fact that public attention was split between home defence and
operations abroad did not mean that criticisms aimed at the operation
were not taken seriously. Churchill was keenly aware of the negative
press coverage. Although MOI reports had indicated a certain level of
public disinterest when it came to the Dakar operations, the fallout from
Menace continued to be discussed in the War Cabinet and monitored
through Admiralty Home Press Summaries. The press remained impor-
tant because those groups that monitored public opinion considered it
to be a viable window into local and international sentiment. Moreover,
the tone and content of these articles revealed a great deal about how the
press and public expected the war to be fought. They were consistent
with earlier reactions to Operation Catapult, which had praised the ven-
ture for its tenacity and resolve. After it was announced on 26 September
that the Dakar expedition would be suspended, the press took a similar
line. It unceremoniously dismissed de Gaulle’s moral and humanitarian
explanations for ending the confrontation and argued that the garrison
should have been made to submit.
97 ‘What the Public is Asking No. 3’, 7 September 1940, INF 1/283, TNA.
98 Richard Toye, The Roar of the Lion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 75.
100 ‘Reaction to Dakar and de Gaulle, Home Intelligence Weekly Reports’, 30 September–9
October 1940, INF 1/292, TNA.
101 Ibid.

Despite efforts to cast the British in a supporting role at Dakar, the

press called for explanations from Parliament and the War Cabinet, not
from de Gaulle.103 The operation, and more precisely, the decision to
withdraw, was seen as a failure. It was inconsistent with Britain’s war-
time narrative and its promises to maintain absolute resolve in secur-
ing victory. This was despite official arguments underlining the ethical
justifications for backing down. In just war theory, wartime actions are
often expected to be characterised by self-mastery, decisive action and
contempt for death.104 In this framework, it is possible, even desirable,
to temporarily normalise extraordinary conditions in order to achieve
a rightful victory. This includes the legitimate application of govern-
ment force outside traditional zones of sovereignty.105 Withdrawing from
Dakar violated these core notions of how wars are fought and won. Criti-
cisms of Allied failures at Dakar were rooted in these understandings
of war. Churchill’s private secretary, John Colville, noted in his diary
that criticism for the debacle at Dakar was strong in local and American
papers.106 Even The Times, the least critical of the national broadsheets,
published an article arguing that the British should not have undertaken
the task unless it had enough forces to see it through. Losses at Dakar
created a sense of distrust between the public and its political leadership
that had not been felt since the fall of Chamberlain’s government.107 The
Mirror questioned, ‘Where is Parliament these days? The nation has a
right to the truth concerning this lamentable fiasco which suggests that
we are still in the stage of gross miscalculation, muddled dash and hasty
withdrawal, wishful thinking and half-measures’.108
The War Cabinet was correct in concluding that operations at Dakar
had adversely affected British prestige. For de Gaulle, the consequence
of Dakar was that it demonstrated the limitations of his power. The
symbolic significance of the Free French movement did not disguise
its reliance on British resources. Rhetoric that attempted to justify the
withdrawals by citing altruistic or humanitarian factors flew in the face
of understandings of war rooted in hard work, sacrifice, and commit-
ment. When planning for the bombardments at Mers el-Kébir, we know
that the War Cabinet put together press releases, which prepared for
a number of possible outcomes. Prior to the Dakar excursion, neither

104 O’Donovan, The Just War Revisited, 4.
105 Ibid., 19.
106 John Colville, Wartime Diaries, 27 September 1940, CLVL 1/3, CCAC.
107 Our own correspondent, ‘Americans on Dakar Adventure’, The Times, 27 September
1940, 4.

Carlton Gardens nor the MOI sufficiently considered or anticipated the

likelihood that it could end in failure. And it quickly became impossible
to convince the British public and mass media that withdrawing from
Dakar rather than pursuing the fight was the correct choice. Churchill’s
popularity suffered in the wake of the Dakar operations. This was partly
due to the disappointment caused by a military loss and partly to the
feeling that, with the advent of German bombing, civilians were also inti-
mately involved in the outcome of the war. A censor observed ‘Whereas
in June people seemed to feel that only Churchill stood between them
and disaster, now the ordinary people of England have shown that they
too could play just as stubborn and important a part’.109
The Dakar operations were the first time that Vichy and Free French
forces had faced each other directly. They brought to the fore arguments
over who truly represented French interests and France itself. Each side
reached for its own definition of national identity, which it used to dis-
credit its opponent. De Gaulle still relied on British resources for much of
his publicity. In late July, the British government had employed Richmond
Temple to raise the profile of the Free French movement in Britain and
abroad. This included the publication of a manifesto, which explicitly dis-
credited Pétain’s ‘makeshift’ French government.110 Radio transmissions
from the BBC Daventry transmitter in Britain to France reminded listen-
ers that de Gaulle was (in an allegorical sense) the grandson of Marshal
Foch. The Dakar authorities, on the other hand, were weak men who had
resorted to collaborating with the original thieves of Alsace Lorraine.111
The broadcasts argued that the majority of Dakar’s population was
resolved to rally to the Free French cause. It was only German and Italian
infiltration that forced Vichy to stop pro-Allied elements from acting.112
Although still critical of the Dakar operations, the British press contin-
ued to stress the illegitimacy of the Vichy government, and its alienation
from the rest of the nation. Vichy, argued one article, was ‘helpless’ and
totally under Hitler’s control, largely deluded into thinking that by act-
ing submissively, it would gain real concessions.113 Vichy communiqués
employed by now familiar themes. As after Mers el-Kébir, France and the
French government were the victims of British aggressions. France, one
Vichy wireless report argued, ‘is the victim of a fresh aggression on the
part of England. The cowardly and bloody attack at Mers el Kébir (Oran)
109 ‘Dakar and de Gaulle’, 14 October–21 October 1940, INF 1/292, TNA.
110 ‘To All Frenchmen’, 3 August 1940, FO 892/24, TNA.
111 Daventry, ‘Honneur et Patrie Voice la France Libre’, 25 September 1940,
10GMII/338, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (henceforth MAE).
112 ‘Daventry en Français, Situation à Dakar’, 26 September 1940, 10GMII/338, MAE.
113 ‘The French Empire’, The Guardian, 26 September 1940, 4.

is being repeated at Dakar’.114 Vichy propaganda posters portrayed the

violence at Mers el-Kébir and Dakar side-by-side asking, ‘where else will
Britain spill French blood?’115
Debates over legitimacy and how the Franco-British relationship fit into
the post-armistice environment were central to how British, Vichy and Free
French officials explained the clashes at Dakar. William Hitchcock has
argued that one of the questions that was fundamental to Vichy’s existence
was whether it could credibly claim to be pursuing the nation’s best inter-
ests while simultaneously defying its allies.116 Its alleged position as the sole
representative of French interests tied it to defending the Franco-German
armistice and to planning France’s future in a Europe dominated by Ger-
many. Relying on its imperial territories to confer power and legitimacy
committed Vichy to condemning the clashes at Mers el-Kébir and Dakar
and publicly quashing the notion of Franco-British cooperation. Unlike
British and Free French statements that had tried to downplay Britain’s
role in the operations, Vichy’s response ignored the Free French entirely.
Vichy’s refusal to associate the Dakar operation with the Free French
was not lost on the British press, which pointed out, ‘It would appear that
Vichy describes all the actions of General de Gaulle and his forces as Brit-
ish’.117 Although Vichy was simultaneously responding to a Japanese ulti-
matum over Indo China, news concerning Dakar dominated much of the
press. On the evening of 23 September, Foreign Minister Paul Baudouin
met with representatives of the French and foreign press to inform them of
Franco-Japanese negotiations and the British treachery at Dakar.118 Talk-
ing points sent from Vichy to its diplomatic personnel overseas described
the aggression that the British government had committed against French
possessions. Britain and ‘l’ex-général de Gaulle’ were using force to gain
what they could not get through honest means.119 This theme was rife
throughout the French press. In Le Temps every news story that dealt with
the event carried a title depicting L’Agression Anglaise, L’Agression Britan-
nique, or L’Escadre Britannique.120 L’Echo d’Alger took the same approach.
114 ‘Bitterness of Vichy: The Dakar Action’, The Guardian, 27 September 1940, 2.
115 Ginio, French Colonialism, 16.
116 William I. Hitchcock, ‘Pierre Boisson, French West Africa, and the Postwar
Epuration: A Case from the Aix Files’, French Historical Studies 24, no. 2 (2001): 306.
117 ‘Dakar Forts Fire on Free French Warships’, The Guardian, 25 September 1940, 5.
118 Paul Baudouin, The Private Diaries of Paul Baudouin: March 1940–January 1941,
trans. Sir Charles Petrie (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1948), 247.
119 Télégramme au départ, de Vichy, 24 September 1940, 10GMII/338, MAE.
120 ‘Une escadre Anglaise ouvre le feu sur Dakar après avoir adressé un ultimatum
aux autorités Françaises’, Le Temps, 25 September 1940, 1. ‘L’agression Anglaise
contre Dakar’, Le Temps, 27 September 1940, 1. ‘Dernières nouvelles, l’agression
Britannique contre Dakar’, Le Temps, 27 September 1940, 2.

Not a single story acknowledged Free France or the French elements of

the operation. Moreover, although these stories were published under
slightly different headlines, the body of text was often identical. Vichy,
through the Service de la Propagande and Service d’Information Presse et
Censure, was able to choose what was printed. This allowed it to maintain
rhetorical consistency across the press.
Still, Vichy could not entirely ignore that it was de Gaulle, a French
general, who had delivered the ultimatum to Pierre Boisson. Just as
British rhetoric wrote off Pétain’s government as a few misguided and
unrepresentative individuals, Vichy described de Gaulle as a solitary fig-
ure, whose policies amongst Frenchmen were unpopular. The ultima-
tum was transformed into a British attempt to dismember the French
empire.121 This approach allowed Vichy to acknowledge that de Gaulle
was ‘leading’ the operation in name, but only as a British pawn. L’Echo
d’Alger wrote that de Gaulle had decided to terminate ‘the English
attack against Dakar’.122 By depicting Menace as an escalation of Mers
el-Kébir, Vichy distanced the operation from de Gaulle and his compet-
ing claim of Frenchness. This reasserted the right of the French nation
to self-defence in the face of ‘a British desire for French property’.123
Cablegrams reinforced this argument and were published in both the
French and British press. Pétain’s cable to Boisson, sent as the operation
progressed, emphasised the emotive and moral aspects of the struggle:
‘France is following with emotion and confidence your resistance to mer-
cenary treason and British aggression’.124 Less than two months later,
Vice Premier Pierre Laval would continue this line of reasoning when he
blamed Britain for letting France down during the war, for the ‘treach-
ery’ of Mers el-Kébir and Dakar and for ‘their continued backing of the
“traitor de Gaulle”’.125
What made Vichy policy especially difficult was that it often attempted
to navigate towards two incompatible aims. On the one hand, officials
wanted to balance Anglo-Vichy relations somewhere between an ally and
an enemy. The Vichy government would not be able to defend its colo-
nial empire, the cornerstone of its legitimacy, from a sustained British
attack. Vichy, therefore, wanted to be able to control any escalations in
121 ‘L’agression Britannique contre Dakar’, Le Temps, 26 September 1940, 1.

122 ‘Les Anglais ont abandonné Dakar’, L’Echo d’Alger, 26 September 1940, 1.
123 Our Special Correspondent, ‘Vichy’s “Blow for Blow”’, The Times, 24 September
1940, 4.
124 ‘More Vichy Reports’, The Guardian, 25 September 1940, 2.
125 The Chargé in France (Matthews) to the Secretary of State, 14 November 1940,
Document 479, Foreign Relations of the United States Diplomatic Papers (hence-
forth FRUS).

Franco-British tensions. At the same time, it pursued policies that would

drive a wedge between Britain and the Free French. Representing Vichy
as the victor at Dakar added fuel to its claim to represent popular French
sentiment. Vichy officials hoped that the British government would
eventually abandon the Free French movement for being ineffectual.
On the other hand, Vichy saw the attacks as an opportunity to gain
concessions from the German authorities. In September, Vichy asked
German officials to release armistice restrictions on the French army in
Africa to allow it to reconquer territory in AEF and even expand into
British territory.126 Vichy spokesmen cited Vichy’s resistance at Dakar
and Mers el-Kébir to demonstrate French adherence to the armistice
and to demand that France be given a free hand to defend its empire.127
However, Vichy’s proposals to regain its lost colonies must be under-
stood in their wider context.128 The armistice left Vichy in a constant
state of uncertainty. The viability of any schemes was restricted by the
British blockade and Vichy’s own military limitations, which would have
required substantial German concessions to overcome. Ultimately, the
Vichy government needed peace, not further conflict, to shore up its
legitimacy at home and abroad. It is, therefore, unsurprising that a prin-
ciple aim of Vichy’s talks with the German authorities was to convince
them to issue a statement guaranteeing that the French Empire would
remain French after the peace.129 After all, Vichy’s legitimacy was rooted
in its empire. This meant that it had to protect its territories from both
Allied and Axis forces.
A report issued by Baudouin’s office at the Foreign Ministry showed
that Vichy decision-makers recognised the need to balance relations
between Britain and Germany. The report’s title was edited to showcase
Vichy’s power, rather than its victimhood: ‘Conséquences de l’agression
la victoire de Dakar’. It argued that resistance at Dakar could lead to
German concessions. But it emphasised the importance of not becoming
trapped in a cycle of retaliation that would make them allies of Germany
and Italy without any of the real advantages normally accrued in such a
partnership.130 In fact, it was speculated that the Dakar episode would
126 Paxton, Old Guard, 78.

127 Ibid., 68.
128 For details on Vichy’s plans to reconquer territory lost to the Free French, see
Paxton, Old Guard, Part I. For the perceived threat of Vichy invasions in Free French
territory see Kim Munholland, ‘The Trials of the Free French in New Caledonia,
1940–1942’, French Historical Studies 14, no. 4 (1986): 554, 570 and Jennings, Free
French Africa, Chapter 3.
130 ‘Conséquences de l’agression la victoire de Dakar’, 26 September 1940, 10GMII/338,
MAE.

bring Britain and France closer together by encouraging the British gov-
ernment to stop supporting the Gaullist movement.131
Intelligence reports from the French Foreign Ministry emphasised that
de Gaulle was not the obvious British choice for a Free French leader
and that his movement did not have complete freedom.132 Vichy was also
gathering intelligence from servicemen who had been repatriated to the
metropole. Many of them cast doubt on the popularity of de Gaulle’s
movement among the British public. These reports estimated the
strength of the movement at only 5,000 members in mid-September.133
Interviews carried out from 16 September concluded that an influen-
tial contingent of British opinion was hostile to the Free French.134 A
24 September report suggested that Menace was not an attack against
the Vichy government, but rather, an effort to continue the war against
Germany and Italy. It also identified the real threat that German forces
would use Anglo-Free French operations as a pretext for occupying the
Free Zone and French North Africa.135
By the end of the year, the Vichy Cabinet had adopted a policy of resis-
tance against further Gaullist expansion, rather than trying to actively
roll back their gains.136 There was thus a sharp contrast between the
unwavering condemnation of the Vichy press and the more pragmatic
analysis that continued behind closed doors. Rhetoric allowed Vichy to
craft its own narrative of the new status quo and to disguise the more
complex reality of its relationship between the occupying powers and its
former ally. But this balance was not an easy one to sustain.
On the other hand, de Gaulle was determined to take ownership of
the operation to demonstrate his own initiative and the autonomy of
the Free French movement. Press releases issued by his office (or by
Richmond Temple) disassociated Britain as much as possible from the
expedition. British officials also supported this approach. Churchill’s 8
October Commons address described the events at Dakar as ‘primarily
French’. He defended de Gaulle’s claims that the majority of Frenchmen
in Dakar were naturally inclined towards the Free French cause but were
unable to act freely, being ‘employed as the tool of German and Italian
131 Ibid.
132 ‘Renseignement Angleterre, officier Français rapatrié d’Angleterre’, 17 September
1940, 9GMII/295, MAE.
133 ‘Renseignement, Angleterre, Source: Officier français rapatrié d’Angleterre’, 17
September–16 October 1940, 3P102, Dossier 3, Service Historique de la Défense
(henceforth SHD).
134 Ibid.
135 ‘Grande-Bretagne, évènements de Dakar, 23–25 Septembre 1940’, 24 September
1940, 10GMII 338, MAE.

masters’.137 Publicly supporting de Gaulle’s justifications avoided having

to explain how British intelligence failed to anticipate such high levels
of resistance, or why planners chose to ignore these warnings. Despite
Churchill’s evident willingness to defend de Gaulle, the relationship
between his government and the Free French was not straightforward.
We know that Free French and British rhetoric attributed the opera-
tion to de Gaulle’s movement. This was a way to strengthen the cred-
ibility of the movement and distance Britain from images of imperial
rivalry. British policy-makers wanted to cultivate pro-Gaullist sentiment
in metropolitan France. But they were also committed to promoting pro-
British sentiment. At the time of Menace, decision-makers in London
believed that French public opinion was becoming more pro-British.
Although the failure of the operation might have reversed this trend,
the War Cabinet remained optimistic. It was believed that French self-
confidence could be strengthened and that this would translate into pro-
British sentiment.138 Churchill informed Roosevelt, ‘in spite of the Dakar
fiasco the Vichy Government is endeavouring to enter into relations with
us which shows how the tides are flowing in France now that they feel the
German weight and see we are able to hold our own’.139
It is easy to believe that Churchill exaggerated Vichy’s growing confi-
dence in Britain in order to encourage Roosevelt’s support. But the For-
eign Office made similar speculations regarding opinion in Vichy as early
as 18 September. Intelligence reports concluded that the French popula-
tion was slowly beginning to believe that only a British victory could save
France.140 In mid-December, a Foreign Office telegram destined for Rio
de Janeiro noted that Britain’s success in prosecuting the war against
Germany had made the Vichy government more willing to resist Ger-
man and Italian demands.141 The Foreign Office continued to monitor
opinion in mainland France throughout the war. It paid close attention
to the popularity of the Pétain government, and above all, Pétain him-
self. The far from universal popularity of the Free French movement
within France meant that continuing to cultivate popular support for
the British war effort was not always compatible with the Anglo-Gaullist
relationship.
137 Hansard HC Deb vol. 365 col. 300 (8 October 1940) http://hansard.millbanksys-
tems.com/commons/1940/oct/08/war-situation.
138 W.M. (40) 259th Conclusions Minute 2, Confidential Annex, 26 September 1940,
CAB 65/15/11, TNA.
139 Churchill to Roosevelt, 4 October 1940, CHAR 2/399, CCAC.
140 Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 18 September 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA.
141 Foreign Office to Sir G. Knox (Rio de Janeiro), 18 December 1940, FO 954/8A/135,
TNA.

Conclusion 133
Relations between metropolitan France and Britain, as between Brit-

ain and de Gaulle, also remained complicated. Neither Britain nor Vichy
wished to isolate the other completely, and in fact, both sides attempted,
to varying extents, to diminish de Gaulle’s ability to manoeuvre politi-
cally. British Foreign Office intelligence shortly after Menace reported ‘a
recognised Anglophil [sic] movement in Metropolitan France as well as in
the empire’.142 As a dissident movement, de Gaulle and the Free French
remained reliant upon the British, a status quo that limited his ability
to manoeuvre freely. On the other hand, British officials found their
abilities to publicly criticise de Gaulle curtailed. Doing so could under-
mine their own wartime narrative, in which continuing Franco-British
cooperation played a central role. This reliance would also become a
source of growing tension between these professed allies. Indeed, having
already been forced to swallow the British actions at Mers el-Kébir, the
unplanned withdrawals from Dakar left de Gaulle with even less influ-
ence amongst his British backers. Commenting on the outcome of the
Dakar operations and de Gaulle’s lack of popularity, Robert Vansittart
wrote late in December that the Free French leader could not hope to
improve upon his current position if he ‘continues to make the mistakes
he is doing now’.143
Conclusion
Hervé Coutau-Bégarie and Claude Huan have pointed out that Opera-
tion Menace never had much chance of success in the face of symbolic,
but very real resistance.144 Their assessment brings to life the significance
of empire as both a strategic and symbolic asset within the wider con-
flict. The rhetoric that emerged in response to the Anglo-Free French
operations at Dakar was a product of military limitations and political
manoeuvring on all sides. It reflected the distinct wartime narratives that
British, Vichy and Free French leaders were constructing and the diffi-
culty of sustaining those narratives in the midst of a constantly changing
wartime environment.
In the British metropole, the mass media was highly critical of the lack
of planning leading up to the invasions and the decision not to follow
through with the occupation. Calling for parliamentary explanations,
these criticisms demonstrated that de Gaulle’s Free French movement
142 Weekly Political Intelligence Summaries, 2 October 1940, FO 371/25235, TNA.

143 Robert Vansittart to Anthony Eden, 31 December 1940, FO 954/8A/136, TNA.
144 Hervé Coutau-Bégarie and Claude Huan, Dakar 1940 La Bataille Fratricide (Paris:
Economica, 2004), 231.

was simply not viewed as an independent actor by the British public

and press. We know that de Gaulle relied upon the British for financial
support, military backing and much of his early publicity. It is now pos-
sible to conclude that de Gaulle’s movement also lacked legitimacy on
a more fundamental level. In other words, the movement’s shortage of
material assets contributed to its absence of political capital. Churchill
was able to largely resist calls for a parliamentary enquiry into the affair.
But allocating blame was still viewed as a way to relieve public pressure.
Somerville wrote to Admiral North on 26 September following a BBC
bulletin discussing the French ships that had been allowed through the
Strait of Gibraltar, ‘I wonder if they will try and make me a scapegoat for
this blob’.145 But it was North who was dismissed. Afterwards, Admiral
Cunningham made it clear that he interpreted the move as an attempt to
sweep the debacle under the rug. ‘Of course much as I admire W.C. he
is thoroughly dishonest and always has been’.146
Operation Menace was a British-led event wearing a Free French
mask and not a very convincing one at that. The manner in which the
withdrawal from Dakar was represented in British, Free French and
Vichy rhetoric betrayed the complex and delicately balanced relation-
ships between the three actors. The British may have thought that the
Free French nature of the event, at least in rhetorical terms, would avert
criticism from themselves in case of failure, and even give them increased
scope to limit de Gaulle’s decision-making capabilities. The reality was
more complicated. Both British press correspondents and Vichy official
and mass media responses emphasised the overwhelming British role.
Vichy was careful to avoid mention of the Free French movement more
generally and focussed instead upon the traitorous ex-general de Gaulle.
Perhaps most evident, however, was the conflict over French sov-
ereignty. Here, Britain attempted to balance its public support for de
Gaulle with its desire to cultivate broader pro-British sentiment within
the French metropole. Vichy tried to position itself somewhere between
Britain and Germany. And de Gaulle and Vichy fought outright over
which of them spoke for the legitimate French nation. The setting for
these struggles was overwhelmingly imperial. Britain found itself in a
difficult position. It was forced to be rhetorically supportive of de Gaulle
and the Free French movement more generally. At the same time, it
continued to maintain at least a sliver of hope that Vichy would limit or
renege entirely on its agreement with Germany. As for Vichy, it opted
to describe the Free French movement, its leader and its adherents as
145 Somerville to North, 26 September 1940, NRTH 2/8, CCAC.

146 Dudley North, Letters/Correspondence, 5 November 1940, NRTH 2/3, CCAC.

Conclusion 135
traitors, Jews and foreigners, thus positioning itself and its empire as the
only true representatives of France.147 The conflicts over French sov-
ereignty would become even more convoluted in the years to come as
each side encountered new pressures and competing demands. Ameri-
can pressure would force Britain to allow relief aid to reach unoccupied
France. Vichy would be confronted with increasing German demands
for manpower and materials – in the metropole and in its colonial ter-
ritories. And the influence of the United States would become decisive
after it entered the war as a co-belligerent in December 1941.
147 The Chargé in France (Matthews) to the Secretary of State, 14 November 1940,
FRUS.

5 Promises of Independence
Operation Exporter and the Struggle for the Levant
The French mandate states of Syria and Lebanon were one of the most
contentious imperial battlefields of the Second World War. Here, adding
to the bitter Franco-British arguments, rhetorical skirmishes pitched the
voices and interests of French governors (actual and potential), against
local nationalist opponents for the first time. The collapse of France had
brought empire to the fore of both French and British policies. But nei-
ther imperial protagonist had given much thought to the local popula-
tions of the territories involved.1 All of this changed in 1941. The Levant
states played an important role in Franco-British policy, rhetorically and
strategically. Their position, as emblematic of continuing French impe-
rial power or, alternatively, evidence of Vichy’s craven submission to
Axis demands, had been a source of speculation from the moment of the
French defeat. War Office intelligence in July of 1940 stressed the stra-
tegic value of the Levant and the importance of making sure it remained
friendly towards Britain.2 However, it was not until spring 1941 that
plans were made for an actual military operation in the area. These plans
culminated in the 8 June invasion by British imperial and Free French
Forces as part of Operation Exporter.
Unlike earlier colonial confrontations involving the French fleet in
North Africa and the strategic port of Dakar, Exporter was a protracted
military engagement. It lasted from 8 June to 14 July 1941. This made
it impossible for policy-makers to withhold news from the press until
its conclusion. The War Cabinet and Chiefs of Staff (COS) were aware
that public opinion was calling for decisive action to combat German
infiltration in the region. This affected how Exporter was planned and
publicised. After the public backlash that had followed the Dakar opera-
tions, success was essential to avoid further damaging British prestige.
1 A. B. Gaunson, The Anglo-French Clash in Lebanon and Syria, 1940–1945 (London:

The Macmillan Press Ltd., 1987), 1.
2 Chiefs of Staff Report, 22 July 1940, WO 32/11434, The National Archives (henceforth
TNA).
136

Promises of Independence 137
Failure would also have wider regional repercussions than those suffered
at Dakar. Early official communiqués promised a swift victory; however,
sustained resistance from Vichy forces dispelled these predictions. At the
same time, British rhetoric had to counter Vichy and German accusations
of imperial expansion. Nazi propaganda depicted Hitler’s Germany as
the only nation that could be relied upon to grant independence to the
Levant. British participation, it argued, was motivated solely by the desire
to win a broader struggle for imperial supremacy in the Arab world.
The strength of nationalist demands in the Levant impacted British
and Free French rhetorical strategies in several ways. De Gaulle’s war-
time narrative had, up to this point, promised to liberate France and
the French Empire from Nazi domination. In the Levant, the Gaullist
administration was confronted with well-established nationalist demands
for the first time. This meant that de Gaulle, and de Gaulle’s choice for
Delegate General to the Levant, General Georges Catroux, had to estab-
lish the legitimacy of the Free French movement on a different basis.
They had to present themselves as liberators, but also as guarantors of
Levantine independence. The result was that Gaullist rhetoric alter-
nately celebrated France’s historic claims in the Levant and proclaimed
that Free France recognised the sovereignty and independence of the
two states.
De Gaulle’s policy towards the Levant was to establish an interim Free
French administration, which would retain office in wartime and later
preside over Syria and Lebanon’s transition to independence. Part of this
process would be to negotiate a series of preferential treaties preserving
France’s historic influence. Officially, the British supported this plan.
However, British officials soon discovered that their policies towards the
French Levant also resonated more widely. On the one hand, national-
ist groups in Syria and Lebanon placed Britain under pressure to ensure
that de Gaulle and Catroux’s promises of self-governance and indepen-
dence were carried out. Britain’s presence in the Levant was interpreted
as an alternative – and a potential escape – from French rule. On the
other hand, demands for independence in the Levant were also being
watched closely by Arab nationalists in Palestine, Iraq and Egypt many
of who had similar ambitions.3 As William Roger Louis has pointed out,
‘The issue of independence in the Levant became a test case of whether
or not the British would fulfil their wartime promises’.4 In response to
3 Eugene Rogan, The Arabs, A History (London: Penguin Books, 2012), 303.
4 Wm. Roger Louis, The British Empire in the Middle East 1945–51: Arab Nationalism, the
United States and Postwar Imperialism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984), 124.

these wider regional tensions, the Foreign Office chose to carve a middle
line. It refused to commit to a precise timeline or method regarding the
transition from French rule to formal independence. It chose instead to
mould Britain into the figure of arbiter extraordinaire. Casting Britain as
a neutral observer in the Levant, it was hoped, would allow it to distance
itself from controversial French policies.
But as Vichy’s colonial power waned with the loss of its toehold in
the Levant, Britain found itself with a new Middle Eastern imperial
rival in the shape of a fiercely independent Free French administration
in Beirut. The Middle East rapidly became the regional crucible in
which Anglo-Gaullist tension was most severe. Tensions were aggra-
vated by material imbalances – British and Imperial ground forces far
outnumbered Catroux’s resources. And under the direction of Gen-
eral Henry Maitland-Wilson, British forces were also more successful
in attracting the support of the local Syrian population. The British
desire to consolidate American backing, coupled with their continuing
distrust of the Free French, aggravated Anglo-Gaullist relations even
further.5
The Anglo-Free French occupation of the Levant brought to the fore
rhetorical battles, which, unique to this setting and previous operations,
attempted to mobilise the support of a local population already deeply
engaged in its own nationalist struggle. They did so by promising to
grant independence to Syria and Lebanon. However, these promises
were impacted by deeply rooted histories of Franco-British regional
rivalry and Britain’s own territorial interests. French forces would accuse
Britain of using Arab nationalism ‘as a pretext and means to oust us
from Syria’.6 And even if British political and military leaders were will-
ing to acquiesce to Free French desires for continued influence in the
Levant, the reality and strength of nationalist movements such as the
Syrian People’s Party (founded by nationalist leader Dr Abd al-Rahman
Shahbander in 1925) limited their ability to manoeuvre following the
invasion. If Britain was to continue to enjoy the regional benefits granted
it through preferential treaties with Iraq and Egypt, it had to maintain its
credibility throughout dealings with the Levant. This meant upholding
the rhetoric of independence, even if the Free French were reluctant to
turn this rhetoric into a reality.
5 Following Dakar operations, Roosevelt had requested that Churchill refrain from
sharing information concerning military operations with the French. Henri de Wailly,
Syrie 1941, La Guerre Occultée Vichystes contre Gaullistes (Paris: Perrin, 2006), 415.
6 Susan Pedersen, The Guardians: The League of Nations and the Crisis of Empire (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2015), 166.

Historic Rights and Ruling Practices in the French Levant 139
Historic Rights and Ruling Practices

in the French Levant
Free French policy in the Levant was rooted in well-established mindsets
and practices.7 France had a long history of responding to nationalist
opposition in the Levant with violence. James Gelvin has argued that
shifts in the organisation of traditional political structures in the Levant
made mass politics following the First World War not only possible but
also inevitable.8 Interwar uprisings against the French mandate authority
demonstrated the weakness and apparent illegitimacy of French imperial
control. French authorities relied on military force to manage the politi-
cal and social turmoil that bubbled just below the surface.9
However, interwar nationalist sentiment was neither completely unified
nor consistent in its demands. In both Levant states, interwar nationalism
was highly factionalised.10 D. K. Fieldhouse has argued that the French
retained control of the Levant for as long as they did because they were able
to compromise with local notables. As long as these notables were willing
to participate in this arrangement, the regime stayed in power.11 Mount
Lebanon, the home of the Maronite Christian minority and the vast major-
ity of French cultural and educational institutions, historically supported a
continued French presence. Missionary orders such as the Society of Jesus
played an important role in propping up French political control.12
Syria also had a large Christian population, but it did not have sig-
nificant ties with France. In this instance, social divisions made it dif-
ficult to form a united nationalist agenda. Syrian society was fragmented
into a number of hostile minority populations, including the Alawites
in the North and the Druzes in the South.13 While the former practiced
7 The history of Syrian and Lebanese nationalism and of French and British policy in
the Middle East is developed in greater detail in Chapter 7.
8 James L. Gelvin, Divided Loyalties: Nationalism and Mass Politics in Syria at the Close
of Empire (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 9. Erez Manela also
highlights the significance of Wilsonian rhetoric as a tool wielded by anti-imperial
nationalists to make their own claims. Erez Manela, The Wilsonian Moment: Self-
Determination and the International Origins of Anticolonial Nationalism (Oxford: Oxford
9 Martin Thomas, ‘French Intelligence-Gathering in the Syrian Mandate, 1920–40’,
Middle Eastern Studies 38, no. 1 (2002): 1. Martin Thomas, The French Empire between
the Wars: Imperialism, Politics and Society (Manchester: Manchester University Press,
2005), Chapter 7.
10 Martin Thomas, ‘French Intelligence-Gathering’, 1.
11 D. K. Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism in the Middle East: 1914–1958 (Oxford: Oxford
12 Jennifer M. Dueck, ‘The Middle East and North Africa in the Imperial and Post-
Colonial Historiography of France’, The Historical Journal 50, no. 4 (2007): 947.
13 Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 252.

a variation of Shiite Islam, the latter were an endogamous community

whose religion drew from ‘an eclectic mix of Islamic, Christian, Greek,
and pagan concepts’.14 Any successful treaty would also have to protect
this blend of religious minorities from domination by the Sunni Muslim
population. In Syria, the French created a federal system comprised of
four ‘states’, which took advantage of divisions amongst minority groups
to suppress a coherent nationalism.15 The traditional ruling class in Syria
was made up of clans of notables that had traditionally benefited from a
system of ‘honourable co-operation’ with the French. As a result, there
were different ‘shades of nationalism’ amongst the notables, whose pri-
mary aim was to maintain their own positions as a class of wealthy and
powerful landowners.16
As a mandatory power installed after the Great War, France faced
growing discontent from Syrian nationalists. The outcome was the 1925
Druze revolt, which General Maurice Gamelin subdued by repeatedly
shelling Damascus. These uprisings also stoked long-standing Franco-
British imperial tensions. French suspicions were nurtured by allega-
tions that the British had offered rebel factions arms and refuge. French
administrators who were involved in the Levant in 1941 had often cut
their teeth in these interwar clashes. General Catroux had served in
1921 as then High Commissioner General Henri Gouraud’s representa-
tive in Damascus. Afterwards, he headed the Mandate’s influential mili-
tary intelligence Service de Renseignements. The man who later became
the Vichy High Commissioner in the Levant, General Henri Fernand
Dentz, had succeeded Catroux as the chief of military intelligence dur-
ing this period. From then on, he harboured deep suspicions of British
intentions.
Free French expectations also reflected previous experiences, in which
French supremacy was repeatedly confirmed even in the wake of its vio-
lent policies. Despite widespread local and international condemnation
of French atrocities during the interwar unrest, the League of Nations
Permanent Mandates Commission (PMC) agreed to uphold French
authority. It asked France to issue a rhetorical commitment to League
ideals, even if the events confirmed French illegitimacy in the eyes of
the local population.17 In 1936, by which time French expenditures
on the mandate were estimated to be 4 billion francs, negotiations for
14 Ibid., 256.
15 Ibid.
16 Ibid., 302.
17 Pedersen, The Guardians, 160.

Planning Operation Exporter: Means and Motivations 141
independence were opened under Léon Blum’s socialist-led coalition.18

Blum’s Popular Front government eventually signed a Treaty of Inde-
pendence in December of that year. But the French National Assembly
refused to ratify it before the war broke out in 1939. In 1941, the issue
of independence resurfaced, again becoming a major source of friction.
This time, however, the British tied themselves publicly to the eventual-
ity of a self-governing state or states, as a Syrian and Lebanese union had
not yet been ruled out.19 The conflict remained subject to the unending
Middle Eastern rivalries between France and Britain. But the opinions of
the local populations in Syria and Lebanon – as well as the violence they
had experienced at the hands of two occupation regimes – distinguished
the Syrian crisis from previous sites of conflict in the French Empire.20
Planning Operation Exporter: Means and Motivations

Ashley Jackson has described the Mediterranean and Middle East as the
‘Empire’s central front’.21 Italian incursions into Egypt and Greece, the
importance of the Suez Canal and the threat of German forces blocking
access to oil supplies in Iraq and Iran made protecting this region para-
mount for strategic and economic reasons. German domination in the
Balkan Peninsula and Italian threats to British shipping between Suez
and India led to fears that Gibraltar and Suez would be seized by the Axis
powers. This would obliterate the Allied foothold in the Middle East.22
For Britain, the Middle East was also its last bastion against total depen-
dence on American assistance. Retaining influence here would allow
Britain to shore up its post-war authority on a more global level.23 In this
context, the Levant states, always the vital strategic pivot in the Middle
East, became a military and a rhetorical battleground. Here, more than
ever, the complexity of relations between Gaullist and British forces at
military, political and cultural levels was impossible to separate. Each
sphere impacted how military operations and political decisions were
planned, carried out and justified in the years between 1941 and 1945.

19 Philip S. Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate, The Politics of Arab Nationalism 1920–
1945 (London: I. B. Tauris, 1987), 583.
20 The nature and timing of nationalist demands will be assessed in greater detail in
Chapter 7.
21 Ashley Jackson, The British Empire and the Second World War (London: Hambledon
Continuum, 2006), 97.
22 Richard Overy, Why the Allies Won (London: Pimlico, 2006), 16.
23 John Darwin, The Empire Project: The Rise and Fall of the British World System, 1830–
1970 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 523–524.

At a strategic level, the War Cabinet agreed that having local sup-
port in the Levant and the broader Middle East region was paramount.
Ensuring regional tranquillity meant that vital sources of manpower
could be allocated more efficiently to engage with German or Italian
forces. However, British and Gaullist factions could not agree on how
to respond to nationalist demands in both Levant states. Neither Brit-
ain nor the Free French were strangers to these kinds of demands, and
they recognised the regional instability that could result from them. Dur-
ing the interwar years, anti-imperial sentiment in the Levant and other
Middle Eastern mandated territories like British Palestine was an almost
constant source of instability. These experiences, however, fostered two
different approaches to policy-making. The French remained reluctant
to relinquish influence, and there was a particular desire to preserve the
cultural institutions it had introduced. French links to Lebanon were
rooted in historical claims made by the Catholic Church to protect the
Levant’s Maronite Christian and other ethnic minority populations.
French Catholic schools and missions in Syria were a way to spread
French ‘civilisation’.24 These attachments were deeply cultural and
highly emotive. On the other hand, British priorities were to protect its
strategic and economic interests even if this meant relinquishing political
influence.25 British decision-makers wanted to cultivate a broad base of
regional support that would protect its interests. And the Foreign Office
feared that ‘… too close an identification with France’s anti-nationalist
and pro-Christian policy could seriously jeopardize Britain’s standing in
the Muslim world’.26 These contrasting approaches to Mandate gover-
nance fostered Franco-British tensions between the two world wars. And
they laid the groundwork for tensions to re-emerge in 1941.
When the war broke out in 1939, the strategic significance of the
Levant was never in question. Immediately following the French col-
lapse in June 1940, the COS emphasised the importance of maintaining
sympathy for the British cause in Syria and Lebanon. At this point, they
preferred to preserve the status quo rather than become embroiled in
costly military operations.27 On 10 July, the French High Commissioner
in Beirut, Gabriel Puaux, warned the Ministry of Foreign Affairs that
a British blockade could set off a Syrian and Lebanese revolt.28 French

25 Aviel Roshwald, Estranged Bedfellows: Britain and France in the Middle East during the
Second World War (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 6.
27 ‘Syria, Planning and Operations’, 22 July 1940, WO 32/11434, TNA.
28 Martin Thomas, ‘Resource War, Civil War, Rights War: Factoring Empire into
French North Africa’s Second World War’, War in History 18, no. 2 (2011): 230.

news agency Havas speculated in mid-September that year that the

situation in Syria was on the point of ‘boiling over’. It predicted that
the French population would shortly rally to de Gaulle’s Free French.
However, nothing came of these conjectures.29 By the end of the year,
British hopes for continued Syrian resistance had also faded. High Com-
missioner Puaux had maintained a studied ambiguity, but his political
star was fading. This fact was confirmed by a disappointing meeting that
December between Syrian exiles and British diplomats.30 Shortly after,
the hard line Vichyite General, Henri Fernand Dentz, replaced Puaux.
His arrival snuffed out any residual hopes of a peaceful change at the top
of the administrative tree.
By early spring 1941, Syria’s formal neutrality and the regional status
quo were being rapidly eroded. Germany was demanding transit rights,
refuelling facilities and other strategic privileges. Admiral François Dar-
lan, who by 17 February was serving as vice president of the Council,
Navy Minister, Foreign Minister, Minister of Information and Minister
of the Interior, seemed willing to acquiesce.31 In 1941, Darlan favoured
a rapid peace that would give France the breathing room it needed to
recover, consolidate and expand its empire. He was willing to grant lim-
ited German access to the French Empire in the hope of gaining public
concessions that would shore up public opinion at home.32 However, as
in 1940, Vichy’s ability to regain or expand upon its colonial territory
was severely restricted. Its military capabilities remained limited. Any
expansion was subject to German concessions, which, ultimately, were
not forthcoming.
The British War Cabinet, by this time, suspected that Vichy was
actively collaborating with Germany’s occupation administration and its
Armistice Commission envoys in North Africa. A series of low-level, but
politically significant Anglo-Vichy armed clashes, only served to confirm
29 ‘Syrie’, 14 September 1940, 9GMII/295, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (hence-

forth MAE).
30 Sir Llewellyn Woodward, British Policy in the Second World War (London: Her
Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1962), 110. Stephen Hemsley Longrigg, Syria and
Lebanon under French Mandate (New York: Octagon Books, 1972), 299. Yossi Olmert,
‘A False Dilemma? Syria and Lebanon’s Independence during the Mandatory
Period’, Middle Eastern Studies 32 no. 3 (1996), 46.
31 Darlan would add Minister of Defence to his portfolio on 11 August 1941.
32 Later, in a 14 July 1941 note verbal, Darlan would propose normalising Franco-
German relations. Germany would release France from the armistice terms, and this
would give France a free hand to defend its territorial interests. German Foreign
Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop described the note as French blackmail. Robert
O. Paxton, Vichy France: Old Guard and New Order 1940–1944 (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1972), 104–107.

this belief. On 30 March, Royal Navy ships intercepted a convoy of four

French merchant vessels off the coast of French North Africa. Vichy
responded by firing at the British warships from coastal batteries and
later initiating the aerial bombardment of Gibraltar from Tafaraoui.33
Two months later, naval tensions between Britain and Vichy peaked with
the British bombardment of Axis shipping in the Tunisian port of Sfax.
Turkey was also showing an interest in establishing a route through Syria
in order to receive British supplies. Agreeing to arrange such a route with
Syrian authorities was a tempting possibility in London. A formal Anglo-
Turkish arrangement might be the prelude to Turkish entry into the
war alongside the Allies – a prospect dangled but ultimately unfulfilled
during Anglo-French-Turkish staff talks before the war began in 1939.34
However, the British were not prepared to use force in Syria to achieve
this end.35 Their reluctance to push matters to the point of violent con-
frontation was only broken after German infiltration in Syria and Iraq
persisted in spring 1941.
Between April and May 1941, an anti-British coup broke out in Iraq.
It was led by nationalist army officer Rashid Ali al-Gaylani and supported
by German forces using Syrian aerodromes. This event became the pri-
mary catalyst, both strategically and rhetorically, for British action. In late
April, General Archibald Wavell, Commander-in-Chief of the Middle
East (until his replacement by General Claude Auchinleck on 21 June),
received a telegram from Field Marshal Sir John Dill, Chief of the Imperial
General Staff (CIGS). It warned of the danger of German involvement
in Syria. It was imperative, Dill emphasised, to prepare a force to support
French resistance to a possible German invasion.36 However, Vichy resis-
tance against further German incursions in to Syria was unlikely. Darlan
met with Hitler at Berchtesgaden in the Bavarian Alps on 11 May. There,
he agreed to allow Germany the use of bases in Syria from where they
would assist in the Iraqi revolt against British power.37 This agreement
was the catalyst for British action. But Britain’s Middle East policy had
to take into account a range of military and political factors. It had to
33 Martin Thomas, The French Empire at War: 1940–1945 (Manchester: Manchester

34 For more on Anglo-Turkish negotiations, see Martin Thomas, ‘Imperial Defence
or Diversionary Attack? Anglo-French Strategic Planning in the Near East, 1936–
40’, in Anglo-French Defence Relations between the Wars, eds. Martin Alexander and
William Philpott (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 157–185.
35 ‘Syria, Planning and Operations’, 22 July 1940, WO 32/11434, TNA.
36 CIGS to C in C Middle East, 27 April 1941, WO 32/11434, TNA; although Wavell
was replaced 21 June, Auchinleck was not installed in Cairo until after the armistice
negotiations.

assess whether a military victory in the region was achievable and estimate
how British operations in the Levant would impact British prestige in the
region and also at home. At the same time, British decision-makers had to
ensure that the Free French policy would complement rather than hinder
its own aims.
On the military side, Britain reacted quickly to the threat of German
infiltration in to Syria. Wavell began drafting operational plans on 23
May. But Wavell, and other officials in the British service ministries,
remained reluctant to collaborate militarily with de Gaulle and the Free
French more generally. ‘I do not trust discretion of French generally.
Though am sure de Gaulle himself entirely discreet’. [sic]38 Wavell was
unconvinced of Free French abilities to successfully plan and carry out
strategic operations. In a letter to Churchill, he wrote, ‘Previous experi-
ence has made me somewhat sceptical of information on Syria from Free
French sources and Free French plans sometimes take little account of
realities’.39 Wavell highlighted military factors, which he believed could
impact the immediate outcome of a full-scale invasion of the Levant
states. But his attitude also illustrated that a broader disdain for the Free
French could still permeate strategic decision-making. At this juncture,
Wavell was primarily concerned with drawing up plans for the opening
days of the invasion. In reality, Exporter spanned a much longer time-
frame. Unfolding over a period of weeks and months, it raised a number
of additional preoccupations, which were distinct from immediate mili-
tary or security concerns.
Any military operation in the Levant would have serious political
consequences, both for Britain and the Free French. The COS tried to
anticipate how the operations would be received in the Levant, across
the Middle East and at home in Britain. Working from their experiences
in previous operations, policy-makers recognised that Exporter had to
be successful on two levels. First, it had to achieve a military victory.
Second, it had to win the hearts and minds of different, and sometimes
disparate, constituencies of opinion. Churchill’s government had to con-
vince Syrian and Lebanese nationalist groups and wider Middle East
opinion that Britain’s role in the operations was driven by wartime expe-
diency and emphatically not by imperial ambition. One way to do this
was to position France, as represented by de Gaulle, as the legitimate
administrator of the Levant – still, in other words, the tutelary man-
date holder. This meant that British authorities had to convince local
interest groups that the operations were Free French in nature. They
38 Wavell to CIGS, 23 May 1941, WO 32/11434, TNA.

39 Cypher, Wavell to Churchill, 22 May 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA.

were supported by British and Imperial forces but not led by them. This
tactic, in addition to being a façade, would also complicate Britain’s
position. Underwriting Free France’s status in the Levant made the
British guarantors of French promises of independence – another com-
mitment of the mandate holder. And this eventuality was already written
into a treaty (the agreement signed in December 1936).
Churchill’s seeming readiness to temporarily underwrite a veneer of
Free French power in the Levant disguised the preeminent concern of
British foreign policy: the conservation of remaining pro-British senti-
ment throughout the Arab world. Given the importance of upholding
British prestige in the Middle East, London could not allow a Gaullist
administration to simply replace the Vichy regime. Nationalist groups
would interpret this as a blatant betrayal of both British and Free French
promises of independence. Churchill in a 19 May note wrote regard-
ing the approach to be taken in Syria: ‘We must have an Arab policy’.40
The prime minister went on to suggest that if the Vichy French army in
Syria refused to join the Allies, Britain could claim that the mandate had
lapsed. This, he argued, would generate pro-British sentiment amongst
the Arabs, who would see British policy as a way to achieve indepen-
dence. ‘The French have forfeited all rights in Syria since they quitted
the League of Nations and we are entitled to argue that their Mandate
has lapsed. Furthermore, none of our promises to de Gaulle cover man-
dated territories’.41
Britain’s eagerness to shore up in own influence in the Middle East
impacted how its policies towards the Levant and the Free French there
were conceptualised. Churchill’s key intelligence advisor, Major Des-
mond Morton, confided on 30 March, ‘The Chiefs of Staff have told
my committee on more than one occasion that they would consider the
rallying of Syria to our side a matter of high importance …’42 Edward
Spears echoed this sentiment a few days later. On 10 April, in a note to
Churchill, Spears speculated that, due to skilful German propaganda,
local populations might have become substantially pro-German in
orientation. He also emphasised that it was crucial to construct an image
of Allied strength to encourage Syrians to join the Allies. This would,
he argued, have a considerable effect on the opinion of several groups
including the senior officers and men of the French fleet and would ‘tend
to bridle Vichy’s pro-German tendencies’.43
40 ‘Syrian Policy’, 19 May 1941, PREM 3/422/2, TNA.

41 Ibid.
42 Morton to Churchill, 30 March 1941, CAB 80/57, TNA.
43 Major General Spears to Churchill, 10 April 1941, PREM 3/422/1, TNA.

Adding to Britain’s concerns over Middle East opinion, policy-makers

were also aware that a significant portion of the British public were in
favour of action in the Levant. Home Intelligence Reports concluded
that there was a widespread ‘critical attitude over our apparent inac-
tivity towards Syria’.44 There was also increasing resentment towards
metropolitan France. In February, Darlan had become vice president of
the Council (essentially Premier) as well as Minister of Foreign Affairs,
Minister of the Interior and Minister of National Defence. In Britain, his
growing collaborationist tendencies had translated into increased sup-
port for the Free French. Free French press analyses celebrated 5 April
as the first time that The Times had taken a clear position in favour of Free
France.45 In early April, the British government continued to encourage
the press to criticise Vichy and Darlan. But it advised that Pétain should
not be directly condemned for fear of provoking a counter-reaction
amongst French and American opinion, which continued to hold him
in high esteem.46 By late May, Home Intelligence indicated a growing
unwillingness amongst Britons to distinguish between the French people
and the Vichy government. These sentiments were behind demands to
declare France an enemy nation and seize Dakar and Syria.47 They also
reinforced the COS conclusion that once begun, withdrawing from an
attempt to capture the two Levant states was not an option.
Political concerns regarding British prestige in the Middle East and
public appeals for action in the Levant did not always go hand in hand
with Wavell’s strategic calculations. As late as 4–5 June, he remained
concerned over the likelihood of military success in Syria, calling the
operation ‘a gamble’ and ‘problematical’.48 The Vice Chiefs of Staff,
drawing directly on lessons from Dakar, suggested that increased air sup-
port would benefit the early stages of the operation. Their suggestions
addressed military concerns but were also motivated by more political
factors. Losses in the Levant, they argued, would ‘add to the severity
of the blow to our position and prestige’.49 The determination to avoid
another Dakar reinforced attitudes in the War Cabinet and amongst
the COS that British officials must retain control over operational plan-
ning as well as the rhetoric surrounding the Levant. This meant that
44 Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 21–28 May 1941, INF 1/292, TNA.
45 Télégramme, Francelib, 5 April 1941, AG/3(1)/257, Archives Nationales (henceforth
AN).
46 De Gaulle to Haute Commissaire Brazzaville, 5 April 1941, AG/3(1)/257, AN.
47 Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 21–28 May 1941, INF 1/292, TNA.
48 ‘Aide Memoire by Vice Chiefs of Staff’, 6 June 1941, CAB 80/57/58, TNA.
49 Ibid. Cipher Telegram, War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 6 June 1941, WO
106/3073, TNA.

policy-makers would prioritise fostering pro-British, rather than pro-

Allied or pro-Gaullist sentiment in the Levant.
In the weeks leading up to Exporter, the importance that Churchill,
Spears and key advisors placed on elevating British prestige in the Levant
and the Middle East was reflected in a series of official statements as
well as the tone of the press. Unlike the operations at Mers el-Kébir,
during which speculation surrounding the fate of the French fleet was
suppressed, press reports in the weeks leading up to Exporter empha-
sised the threat of German infiltration in the region. This helped fos-
ter deeper popular antagonism towards Vichy and heightened calls for
immediate action. Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden lent force to these
early demands for invasion by highlighting German infiltration in the
Levant. In mid-May, he made a highly publicised address in the House
of Commons. He stressed American displeasure over the German use
of aerodromes in Syria and warned that Britain could take military mea-
sures to curb the German threat. These warnings were duly noted in
Vichy’s analyses of the British press.50 Eden’s statement on Syria was
also broadcast to French listeners via the BBC. His words conjured up
by now familiar images of French honour to emphasise the illegitimacy
of the Vichy government. Vichy policy, according to Eden, was ‘contrary
to the honour of France … against the wishes of the French people as
a whole … opposed to French interests’.51 Eden also fostered regional
Arab support in a 29 May speech at the Mansion House, in which he
publicly backed the Arab Union project.52
Vichy officials noted with trepidation the burgeoning press coverage
given to the Levant states in the weeks leading up to Exporter. The threat
of British action was compounded by the worsening instability within the
two mandates. Severe food shortages in Syria through 1941 had provoked
strikes and demonstrations, contributing to a general sense of unrest in
the region.53 Press reviews arriving in Vichy from the French Embassy in
Dublin anticipated British attacks on the Levant states as early as 9 May.
These analyses observed that the British press was speculating that Ger-
many was planning to use Syria as a base for attacks on Suez and other
strategic points in the Middle East. They highlighted the ‘sensational’
50 Télégramme a l’arrivée de Laforcade, Dublin, 23 May 1941, 10GMII/332, MAE. ‘Le

Temps’ 18 May 1941, 10GMII/342, MAE.
51 Weekly Intake Reports on Broadcasts in French for French Listeners, 12–18 May
1941, ABMS 1/2/2, Churchill Archive Centre (henceforth CCAC).
52 James Barr, A Line in the Sand: Britain, France and the Struggle that Shaped the Middle
East (London: Simon & Schuster, 2011), 214.
53 A. H. Hourani, Syria and Lebanon, A Political Essay (London: Oxford University
Press, 1946), 235.

rhetoric of the articles, a tactic, it was argued, which could goad the
British government into taking preventative measures.54 Similarly, press
bulletins in late May concluded that the British were treating the Levant
as an enemy-occupied territory.55 Alarmed by these rhetorical escalations,
Vichy tried to counter British claims and prove that any German inter-
ference in the region had long since ended. After British radio broad-
casts asserted that Syria was entirely under German domination, Darlan
instructed the French embassies in Washington and Madrid to inform
their British counterparts that following Vichy requests, Germany had
removed all war material from Syria.56 Vichy even tried to counter British
rhetoric with its own imperial bluster. A French Information Office state-
ment released in late May argued that the time had come for France to
‘recover especially in Africa the whole of her Empire’.57
In the final days of May, the focus of Britain’s Levant policy shifted to
legal issues over the Mandate and the timeline for Syrian and Lebanese
independence. These questions rapidly coalesced into sharper sources
of friction between the British and Free French leadership. On 24 May,
Catroux publicly backed British proclamations endorsing the early rec-
ognition of Levant state independence. De Gaulle resented this policy,
not least because he did not believe Churchill’s repeated claims that
the British had no interest in usurping the French in the Levant.58 His
worries were not entirely ungrounded. There was a general consensus
throughout the British government that it was not worth jeopardising
British military interests in order to placate French sentiments. A 14
May cypher from the War Office had stated this position clearly: ‘You
are certainly free to act against German aircraft in Syria and on French
aerodromes irrespective of possible effects of such action on relations
with Vichy and Free French’.59 Spears was also becoming suspicious
of de Gaulle’s reticence. He feared the General would not give proper
assurances of independence to Syria and that this would cause tension
in the region and embarrassment to Britain. ‘The Arab question … as
54 Télégramme à l’arrivée, de Laforcade, Dublin, 9 May 1941, 10GMII/342, MAE.

‘Synthese des Évènements du 1er au 10 Juin 1941, Document de Travail Intérieur’,
June 1941, 1P12, Dossier 1, Service Historique de la Défense (henceforth SHD).
55 ‘Bulletin d’Information pour la Période allant du 27 Mai au 5 Juin 1941’, 28 May
1941, 1P12, Dossier 1, SHD.
56 Télégramme au départ, Darlan to Washington and Madrid, 6 June 1941, 10GMII/342,
MAE.
57 The Ambassador in France (Leahy) to the Secretary of State, 20 May 1941, Document
138, Foreign Relations of the United States Diplomatic Papers [henceforth FRUS].
58 Thomas, French Empire, 106. De Wailly, Syrie 1941, 369.
59 Cypher from War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 14 May 1941, PREM 3/422/6,
TNA.

de Gaulle should understand because of our paramount interest in the

neighbouring countries’, he stressed, ‘is one we cannot afford to dis-
pute’.60 Spears recognised that although there were two strands of opin-
ion in the Levant (French and Arab), one was far more important than
the other. ‘The former, once rallied is of little interest to us’.61 Spears
wrote that if the British would guarantee Free French declarations of
Syrian independence, this move ‘would do much to allay Arab hostil-
ity’.62 Arab support throughout the Middle East would, it was hoped,
ease pressure on the British in their Palestinian mandate.
De Gaulle’s conception of independence for the Levant had a dif-
ferent timeline and a different endgame from that envisaged by most
local nationalist groups. His declarations promising independence were
principally designed to quell any local resistance. His primary goal
remained the revitalisation of the French nation. A crucial part of this
recovery was France’s ability to maintain control over its formal empire
and to conclude highly favourable treaties with its mandated territories.63
Such agreements would guarantee ‘the rights and special interests of
France’.64 Because local nationalist sentiment in the Levant was impla-
cably opposed to becoming part of France’s informal empire, this would
place the British under mounting pressure to back up their own lofty
promises of independence. In turn, Free French determination to nego-
tiate a French withdrawal on its own terms widened the gap between
British and French Middle East policies. After Exporter was launched
on 8 June, Anglo-Free French tensions mounted. British strategic jus-
tifications and attempts to mobilise local support endangered what de
Gaulle saw as French historical rights in the region. And as the two allies
wrangled over the future of the Levant, Vichy found itself with a decid-
edly reduced claim to imperial sovereignty.
Operation Exporter Begins and Independence

Is Promised
On 8 June, General Maitland-Wilson launched a two-pronged invasion
through Lebanon and Iraq moving towards Beirut and Damascus. His
task force comprised British and Imperial troops as well as Free French
forces. Unlike the operations at Mers el-Kébir and Dakar, which were
60 Cypher, Spears to Churchill, 5 June 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA.

61 Ibid.
62 Spears to Spears Mission London, May 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA.
63 Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate, 593.
64 Draft Telegram, Lampson to Foreign Office, 6 June 1941, GB165-0269, Box 1A,
MECA.

Operation Exporter Begins and Independence Is Promised 151
concluded in a matter of days, Exporter lasted over a month and ended in

Allied occupation. The duration of the conflict and the range of interest
groups involved made it much more difficult to manage on a rhetorical
level. For the first time, British and Free French decision-makers placed
a priority on garnering local support for the invasion and occupation. The
narrative surrounding the operation continued to stress a future Allied
victory, and it continued to promote the Free French as the true voice of
France. But it also shifted in fundamental ways. The rhetoric of Allied
victory was now linked to promises of Levantine independence. The pre-
cise nature of this independence remained undecided. These arguments
over the future of the Levant would burgeon into a wider debate over the
future of Franco-British influence throughout the region.
Guarantees of independence were an integral part of the invasions.
Wavell believed that such assurances were essential to their success.
They would gather support from Arab contingents in Syria, and they
would dispel German claims that only Axis forces would grant the region
independence.65 Wavell suggested that ‘General de Gaulle [should] be
pressed’ to support full independence for both states and that this state-
ment should subsequently be endorsed by the British government. The
result was that on the same day that Allied troops crossed into Vichy
colonial territory, General Catroux delivered a grand declaration prom-
ising to grant independence to Syria and Lebanon. A British message
supporting Catroux’s statement appeared shortly after.
In the Levant, rhetoric was used to establish the Free French posi-
tion, but also to suggest that Free France was conceding to national-
ist demands. Catroux, rather than being named High Commissioner
(a title that would suggest the continuity of French power), was named
French Delegate and Plenipotentiary.66 The text of his 8 June declara-
tion was also carefully edited by the Foreign Office and Wavell to avoid
local dissent. They sent instructions and guidelines through the Brit-
ish ambassador in Cairo, Sir Miles Lampson. Catroux’s original draft
made two assertions. First, it established the Free French as the true
representative of France. Second, it promised an end to the mandate.
However, independence would be granted only after the conclusion of a
treaty ‘conceived in the spirit of [the] Anglo-Egyptian treaty’.67 Foreign
Office reservations around Catroux’s statement were based on the real-
ity of anti-French nationalist sentiment in the Levant. They wanted to
65 Wavell to War Office, 19 May 1941, GB165-0269, Box 1A, MECA.

66 The Chargé in the United Kingdom (Johnson) to the Secretary of State, 7 June 1941,
Document 2331, FRUS.
67 Lampson to Foreign Office, 20 May 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA.

avoid setting off a surge in anti-British sentiment locally or regionally.

Catroux was forced to revise his declaration. The changes excised sen-
tences that alluded to an inherent bond between the Levant and France.
In Catroux’s original statement, he had first criticised the Vichy govern-
ment for failing to live up to the promises it had made, independence
above all. He then proclaimed that he had come ‘to make France live
again for you’.
The Foreign Office instructed Lampson to omit this sentence from the
statement as it would hardly endear the Arabs to Free French intentions.
It also requested that Catroux’s promise that the Levant would become
‘two sovereign states bound to us by a treaty of alliance’ be modified.
The phrase ‘bound to us’ sounded too coercive. It should be replaced
by ‘united with us’. Wavell had similar misgivings over the statement.
He recommended that references to the Anglo-Egyptian Treaty should
be avoided due to its general unpopularity throughout the Middle East.
Likewise, repeated mentions of France more generally would only inflame
Arab opinion, which was already anti-French.68 Spears wrote to Churchill
in early June to stress the importance of keeping Arab opinion sympathetic
to the Allied cause in general and Britain’s Middle Eastern presence in
particular. ‘Our own influence in the Arab world will not be increased by
being instrumental in substituting one kind of French rule for another’.69
Spears, like other British policy-makers, understood that actions taken in
the Levant would not remain isolated. They would impact how British
policy was or could be conducted across the Middle East.
Justifications of the Anglo-Gaullist invasion and occupation had to
take into account a staggering range of interest groups. We know that
French and Arab populations in Syria and Lebanon viewed the future
of the Levant states in very different ways. This array of competing
and often conflicting expectations made it impossible for Britain and
the Free French to offer guarantees that would satisfy everyone. But it
did not stop them from trying. Wavell received instructions to set up a
‘propaganda machine’ in the region as soon as possible.70 Spears, on 29
May, wrote that statements issued in the Levant should be not only anti-
Vichy but also pro-Free French. He claimed that British declarations
in favour of Free France would encourage opposition to German infil-
tration amongst the current French administrators and their families.
Spears was offering recommendations on how to garner support from
68 Wavell to War Office, 21 May 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA.

69 Spears to Churchill, 5 June 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA.
70 Cipher Telegram, War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 7 June 1941, WO 106/3073,
TNA.

two distinct elements of the local population: French colonials and the
more pro-French Christian minorities in Lebanon. To do so, he sug-
gested a number of recognisable approaches. Spears believed that Brit-
ish statements should be ‘careful to dissociate French people from their
Government’. They should make it clear that they had been betrayed
by their leaders, thereby arousing a ‘sense of honour’.71 He even sug-
gested quoting past French heroes in order to stress Vichy’s inherent
un-Frenchness. Spears believed that Napoleon’s adage ‘the man who
obeys the orders of a captive General is a traitor’ would be particularly
effective.72 The following day Wavell, in line with Spears, recommended
that a British propaganda campaign should be mounted with the goal of
discrediting Vichy and supporting the Free French.73 This was only the
beginning of British and Free French efforts to consolidate their respec-
tive influence within the Levant and throughout the Arab world.
Further complicating matters, explanations of Exporter also had to
consider opinion outside the Middle East. British rhetoric had to respond
to criticism at home, which critiqued the sluggishness of the operations
and their inability to secure a rapid victory against Vichy troops. It also
had to contend with Vichy rhetoric, which continued to rehash argu-
ments based on its legal status, national sovereignty and historic rights
in the Levant. Imperial conflict in the Levant thus forced Britain and
the Free French to wage rhetorical battle on a number of fronts. Most
importantly, placing independence at the centre of this rhetoric opened
a gap between British and Free French understandings of the conflict.
In particular, it highlighted the growing tension between British and
Free French definitions of Levantine independence and visions of their
respective imperial influence after the conflict.
In the lead up to Exporter, there was extensive speculation about
German infiltration in the Levant across the British press. After 8 June,
the press continued to support action to quash this threat. In official
quarters, efforts were made (as at Dakar) to downplay Vichy resistance
and keep the spirit of Franco-British alliance alive. War Office instruc-
tions stressed that press releases should ‘refer to French opposition as
Vichy troops or Vichy planes not (repeat not) as enemy’.74 However,
high levels of resistance from Vichy troops in the Levant made it dif-
ficult to depict their armed forces as a victim of German domination.
71 Spears to Foreign Office, 28 May 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA.

72 Ibid.
73 Wavell to War Office, 29 May 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA.
74 Cipher Telegram, War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 11 June 1941, WO 193/969,
TNA.

The resulting Franco-French and Franco-British battle threatened to

jeopardise Catroux’s early claims that the Free French would be wel-
comed as liberators. Having anticipated the eventuality of resistance in
Syria, the Foreign Office had already adopted a plan, which justified
Allied actions while vindicating the French public. It blamed the mount-
ing collaborationism between Hitler and Darlan for putting the Allies in
an impossible position and forcing them to act, however, reluctantly.75
Consistent with previous strategies, British official rhetoric described
the operations as not just necessary, but inevitable. However, Allied
forces struggled to make progress in their drive into the interior of both
countries. These difficulties made it hard to formulate a consistent
explanation for the operation. Vichy’s sustained resistance meant the
Foreign Office was forced to balance between a hard-line rhetoric, which
received positive support at home and a desire not to alienate metro-
politan French sentiment with excessive bloodshed. Early press releases,
including this one published on 9 June, tried to focus on the Free French
character of the expedition. ‘His Majesty’s Government could not be
expected to tolerate such actions … Free French troops have, therefore,
with the support of Imperial forces, entered Syria and the Lebanon’.76
The conscious decision to portray Exporter as a Free French operation
was reminiscent of the failed invasion at Dakar. However, in the case
of Exporter, there was a greater acknowledgement of the role British
forces were playing, even if the Free French remained in theory the legit-
imate beneficiaries. Remember that after Dakar, there was a great deal
of criticism directed towards the British government for failing to follow
through with the operation. During Exporter, Churchill’s government in
London had to contend with similar challenges, which were rooted in the
public desire for clearly perceptible progress in the war effort.
Military losses in other conflict zones also impacted how the public
responded to the Levant operations. The withdrawal from Crete in the
week prior to Exporter had led to declines in morale and increasing press
criticism. Home Intelligence concluded, ‘General feeling about the prog-
ress of the war is possibly more pessimistic this week than at any period
since the fall of France’.77 In the War Cabinet, policy-makers saw an
anxious public who were calling for real wartime victories. Commenting
upon declining morale, the same report stated, ‘In its almost unanimous
outburst of criticism, the press seems not to have led public opinion but
75 Foreign Office, French Department, 7 June 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN. ‘Why We

Entered Syria: Bases Put at Disposal of the Enemy’, The Guardian, 9 June 1941, 6.
76 ‘Allied Forces March into Syria’, The Times, 9 June 1941, 4.
77 Home Intelligence Reports, 28 May–4 June 1941, INF 1/292, TNA.

to have followed’.78 Although early media publications argued that Vichy

troops were not showing much resistance, prolonged fighting called these
claims into question.79 A 16 June war communiqué was one of the first
to admit that Vichy troops in Syria were putting up a fierce struggle.80
Wavell’s report on the invasion force’s approach to Damascus was even
bleaker: ‘Politically and psychologically Free French almost universally
unpopular in Syria’.81
The MOI attributed public criticism to the belief that Allied advances
lacked conviction. Intelligence that surveyed opinion on the Exporter oper-
ations indicated widespread disappointment that ‘our progress is not over-
whelming and rapid, in the grand German manner’. Explanations for this
outcome included fears of offending the French and meeting greater than
expected resistance.82 Media publications that appeared to show sympathy
for Vichy troops were viewed negatively. A 17 June article in The Times
wrote, ‘Fighting is being resorted to only when gentle persuasion fails’.83
Reports like this one, which depicted a less hard-line approach, became
a source of frustration in the War Cabinet. Churchill, writing to Wavell
only the day before, made it clear that despite the ‘rumours’ present in the
press that the slow progress of the operation was due to attempts to ‘avoid
shedding French blood’, only military factors should be taken into con-
sideration.84 Replying to Churchill’s query, Australian General Thomas
Blamey declared that although there was no truth to the rumours, the
operation simply could not move any faster. His units lacked the strength
to deal effectively with high levels of Vichy resistance.85
Official justifications as well as the press analyses that followed
remained reluctant to depict Exporter as a traditional wartime opera-
tion. These hesitations were a product of continuing uncertainty over
what the Franco-British relationship actually looked like at this point.
The result was a series of rather confusing descriptions that alternately
castigated and sympathised with Vichy French forces. The Allied troops,
one article asserted, ‘do not conceive of themselves as invaders, nor is
this in intention an operation of war’.86 Clearly, this was a substantial
exaggeration. But it illustrates how tempting it was to substitute hostile
78 Ibid.
79 Special Correspondent, ‘Entry at Dawn’, The Times, 10 June 1941, 4.
80 ‘War Communiqué’, 16 June 1941, WO 216/10, TNA.
81 C. in C. Middle East to War Office, 16 July 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1 File 7, MECA.
82 Home Intelligence Reports, 18–25 June 1941, INF 1/292, TNA.
83 Our Correspondent, ‘Divided Allegiance in Syria’, The Times, 17 June 1941, 4.
84 Telegram, Churchill to Wavell, 16 June 1941, WO 216/10, TNA.
85 Cypher, Blamey to Churchill, 17 June 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA.
86 ‘The Advance into Syria’, The Times, 11 June 1941, 5.

imagery with more comforting notions of residual Franco-British under-

standing. Allied troops were now face to face with a Vichy force that
was determined to resist its demands. Yet, British rhetoric continued to
insist that this resistance was the product of a few bad apples and that
the majority of opinion in the Levant was pro-Allied. Bad deeds perpe-
trated by ‘Vichy men’, allegations that ‘Vichy’s conscience is not clear’
and discussions of Vichy’s embarrassment over the struggle all drew a
clear line between ‘the few’ that engaged in collaborative crimes and the
vast majority of French opinion.87 Exporter was portrayed as a libera-
tion by the legitimate representative of France, not an occupation by a
hostile power. Churchill firmly grounded this sentiment in his 10 June
Commons address. ‘We shall do all in our power to restore the freedom,
independence and rights of France’.88 This claim was at the heart of a
broader Franco-French argument over who was the rightful mandate
holder and by association, the legitimate representative of French inter-
ests. Likewise, claims over the Levant shaped the rhetoric emerging from
Britain and Vichy and highlighted the centrality of empire, both strategi-
cally and symbolically in the ongoing conflict.
By the time that Exporter was launched in 1941, the popularity of
the Vichy government was waning and unrest was growing on a wide
scale. Food shortages over the winter of 1940–1941 had sparked forty-
six demonstrations in the occupied zone alone.89 The BBC remained
uniformly popular and was viewed as more reliable and trustworthy
than Vichy communications.90 Public opinion analyses used information
gathered from telegraph, telephone and postal interceptions to conclude
that collaborationist policies were largely unpopular and that British
victory was hoped for.91 This did not stop the Vichy government from
trying to discredit BBC broadcasts aimed at French listeners by attribut-
ing them to Jewish or ‘recently naturalised’ sources.92 Vichy authorities
faced the added challenge of maintaining a functioning press. A 3 July
87 Alexander Werth, ‘Embarrassment of Vichy: French Public Aware of Why We

Entered Syria’, The Guardian, 11 June 1941, 8. Alexander Werth, ‘Vichy’s Three
Objectives in Syria: Stirring up Anti-British Feeling’, The Guardian, 13 June 1941, 8.
88 Hansard HC Deb vol. 372 col. 158 (10 June 1941) http://hansard.millbanksystems
.com/commons/1941/jun/10/defence-of-crete.
89 Julian Jackson, France the Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2001), 276.
90 Ibid., 281.
91 Secrétariat d’état à la guerre: Synthèse décadaire des interceptions des contrôles
télégraphiques, téléphoniques, et postaux, 25 November–4 December 1940,
F/41/266, AN.
92 Broadcasts in French for the French Listener, 14–20 April 1941, ABMS 1/2/2,
CCAC.

letter from the Secrétaire général adjoint de l’information (General Secre-

tariat of Information) informed newspaper offices that the press situation
was critical due to serious paper shortages.93 Le Temps was unavailable
for much of 1941, and other popular dailies including Le Figaro only
published eight editions between June and July. Abridged metropolitan
and colonial newspapers, often consisting of only three or four pages,
prioritised official press releases and communications made by Vichy
officials. This meant that the number of independent articles and the
availability of news itself was much scarcer than in Britain. April 1941
had seen a crackdown on censorship more broadly. Books were being
removed from public libraries, forbidden by the German authorities on
the grounds of political extremism or moral degeneracy.94
Despite increasing opposition to Vichy, Pétain’s popularity continued
to grow well into 1942. He was also able to recover support by dismissing
Pierre Laval as vice president of the Council (effectively French Premier)
in December 1940. These kinds of policies allowed Pétain to distance
himself from the collaborationist strategies that remained widely unpop-
ular. By the time that Exporter was launched, the Vichy government
was under mounting pressure to shore up its legitimacy by swearing off
Franco-German cooperation. The invasions themselves were not a sur-
prise. We know that criticisms of Vichy’s collaborationist policies in the
Levant saturated the British media in the days leading up to the oper-
ation. Pétain confronted these allegations in his official radio address
following the invasion. Speaking directly to the Levant, Pétain accused
British propaganda of forging a pretext for aggression.95 Vichy officials
claimed that British allegations were merely an excuse to seize the region
for themselves. Further reports suggested that the British government
had deliberately worked up American opinion by spreading false infor-
mation about Syria.96
Pétain called upon Frenchmen in Syria ‘to fight in a just cause and for
the integrity of the territory entrusted to France by history’.97 The official
Vichy communiqué issued in response to 8 June predictably identified
British troops as the aggressors.98 Subsequent press publications followed
a familiar line of argument: British aggression threatened the territory
of a sovereign and neutral state. They situated the current operations
93 ‘Autorisations de Publications 1941’, 3 July 1941, F/41/106, AN.

94 ‘Surveillance 1940–44’, 4 April 1941, F/7/14882, AN.
95 ‘Le Maréchal Pétain aux Français du Levant’, Echo D’Alger, 9 June 1941, 1.
96 Télégramme a l’arrivée, de M. Lyautey, 18 June 1941, 10GMII/342, MAE.
97 Our Correspondent, ‘Weygand and Vichy’, The Times, 9 June 1941, 3.
98 ‘Communiqué officiel du 8 Juin’, L’Echo d’Alger, 9 June 1941, 1.

within a longer history of hostility by referencing earlier clashes at Mers

el-Kébir, Dakar and Sfax. Images of the past played an important role
in Vichy’s attempts to make sense of what was happening in the Levant.
And they showed just how easy it was to ascribe British policies to a
history of Franco-British rivalry. Vichy’s Minister of Defence, General
Charles Huntziger, released an official statement that described Britain
as an invader ‘whose perfidy is well-known to you’ and proclaimed that
‘the France of the Crusaders is today the France of Marshal Pétain’.99
At the same time as condemning British policy, Vichy rhetoric chal-
lenged the legitimacy of de Gaulle’s movement. Pétain’s initial radio dec-
laration, subsequently published in the press, attacked de Gaulle’s earlier
promises never to engage in a fight against Frenchmen. ‘The attack is led,
as at Dakar, by Frenchmen serving under a dissident flag. Supported by
British Imperial forces, they are not hesitating to spill the blood of their
brothers defending the unity of the Empire and French Sovereignty’.100
Vichy’s sovereignty was rooted deeply in its imperial territories. Defend-
ing it meant responding to attacks by British imperial troops and margin-
alising the Free French movement as a rival French entity. A report issued
by the Service du Propagande emphasised that images of the empire should
be linked to French power and greatness. In order to ensure that France
remained a great power, the empire had to be protected from the British:
‘L’histoire prouve que l’Angleterre est l’ennemi héréditaire de cet Empire
qui concurrence le sien. Elle a déjà attaqué l’A.E.F. et la Syrie – non pour
la “libérer”, mais pour s’y installer …’.101 Vichy’s hostility to Britain and
the Gaullist movement was articulated in imperial and historic terms.
It is not inopportune to recall … when Britain is sheltering behind Gaullism to
attack our Empire, that Britain is not in the habit of winning the ultimate vic-
tory over France. At Waterloo, England was supported by the whole of Europe
against France alone, and, without the arrival of Bleucher, who knows who
would have won in this sad field, the tenacity of the English or that of the
Grenadiers of General Cambronne?102
Vichy rhetoric situated the French nation outside of the wider conflict.
This allowed it to challenge British justifications, which viewed the use
of armed force for the ‘greater good’ of one’s own community and ‘the
99 Broadcasts in French for the French Listener, 9–15 June 1941, ABMS 1/2/2, CCAC.
100 ‘Le Maréchal Pétain aux Français du Levant’, L’Echo d’Alger, 9 June 1941, 1. ‘What
Vichy Says’, The Guardian, 9 June 1941, 6. ‘L’Attaque contre La Syrie et la Défense
de Notre Empire’, Le Figaro, 9 June 1941, 2.
101 Guide: Les Thèmes de Propagande, no date, F/41/266, AN.
102 Broadcasts in French for the French Listener, 30 June–6 July 1941, ABMS 1/2/3,
CCAC.

international order’ as acceptable and desirable.103 For Vichy, British

actions were not acts of war. They were a continuation of a much longer
history of Franco-British imperial rivalry. William Leahy, the American
ambassador to the Vichy government, doubted that Vichy had been very
successful in its attempts to ‘stir up public indignation’ over Exporter.
However, Vichy was able to instil a sense of unease through its descrip-
tions of ‘Frenchmen fighting Frenchmen’. Moreover, Britain’s slowness
to capture the territory was a blow to its military prestige. According
to Leahy, ‘even those in favour of allied victory tend to view British
military as incompetent and to have a tendency for “bungling” land
operations’.104
British broadcasts aimed at listeners in metropolitan and imperial
France continued to discredit the Vichy government and exonerate the
French population. They celebrated Anglo-Free French cooperation
and associated Vichy with the Nazis.105 This kind of rhetoric reflected
official views, which believed that fostering Anglophilia within France
was essential for future post-war relations. In a letter from Robert Parr,
the British Consul General at Brazzaville, to Foreign Secretary Eden,
Parr emphasised, ‘the well-being of the people of France and their atti-
tude towards ourselves are both factors of lasting importance to His
Majesty’s Government’.106 In order to counter Vichy’s accusations of
imperial aggression in the Levant, British broadcasts maintained that the
operations were an example of continuing Franco-British cooperation.
Here too, references to the past were a tactic to promote the legitimacy
of de Gaulle’s movement. On France’s national day, 14 July, British
broadcasts reminded Frenchmen and women that France was now
‘body and soul a prisoner in the Bastille’, whose walls the men of Vichy
were rebuilding ‘with foreign stones’. De Gaulle would liberate France
just as he embodied continuing Franco-British relations.107 Churchill’s
message commemorating Bastille day, French listeners were informed,
was read aloud by Admiral Muselier in London at the foot of the statue
of Marshal Foch. ‘There was no statue of Foch, it was pointed out, in
France but there is one in England’.108
103 James Turner Johnson, Ethics and the Use of Force: Just War in Historical Perspective
(Surrey, England: Ashgate, 2011), 2.
104 The Ambassador in France (Leahy) to the Secretary of State, 16 July 1941, Document
835, FRUS.
105 Broadcasts in French for the French Listener, 2–8 June 1941, ABMS 1/2/2, CCAC.
106 Parr to Eden, 26 July 1941, FO 432/7, TNA.
107 Broadcasts in French for the French Listener, 14–20 July 1941, ABMS 1/2/3, CCAC.
108 Ibid.

Vichy’s official statements were also printed widely in the British

press. This meant that the British public was engaging with a range
of content justifying or condemning operations in the Levant. Vichy’s
attempts to downplay Germany’s presence in the region by arguing that
German planes were only transiting through Syria were met with scorn
by the British press and public. The British press countered Vichy’s
explanations, reasoning that Germany could not be trusted. It argued
that merely admitting that German troops had at one point been in Syria
justified Exporter. As The Times diplomatic correspondent suggested,
‘Germany’s pretence at withdrawal was only a typical German trick to
try to prove the British the aggressors’.109 However, the continuing resis-
tance of Vichy troops was having a troubling impact on British public
opinion. Home Intelligence Reports concluded ‘The resistance of the
Vichy forces intensifies dislike and contempt for the French, and there
seems to be little attempt to distinguish between Vichy and Frenchmen
generally’. The report suggested implementing an intense propaganda
campaign to combat anti-French feelings. This followed reports of
attacks on Free French sailors, allegedly mistaken as Vichy troops.110
Public criticism surrounding Exporter was not aimed only at the British
government. It illustrated how difficult it was to control the notion of a
Franco-British alliance.
On 22 June, Germany invaded the Soviet Union in operation Bar-
barossa. The Soviet entry into the war on the Allied side did result in
some improvement in popular British morale. Churchill’s Commons
address in reaction to news of Barbarossa was reportedly met with great
approval and ‘quelled a rising tide of criticism and doubt of the higher
direction of the war’.111 This significant development also became the
main focus of news for the Vichy French press. Despite this shift in
attention amongst the two metropolitan media, a new source of tension
began to develop within the Levant states themselves, this time between
the British and the Free French. Britain’s strategic and political priori-
ties began to depart from de Gaulle’s resolute desire to protect France’s
traditional role in the Levant.
On 8 July, Spears noted that Syria ‘insofar as it has an opinion at all,
would gladly sever its connexion with France’.112 Spears may have been
disdainful of the idea of a local Syrian opinion. But it was becoming
increasingly difficult to ignore its impact on British and Free French
109 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Vichy Protest to Britain’, The Times, 11 June 1941, 3.
110 Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 25 June–2 July 1941, INF 1/292, TNA.
111 Ibid.
112 Spears to Spears Mission Brazzaville, 8 July 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA.

policy. At the crux of this issue was independence, an eventuality prom-

ised to Syria and Lebanon by both the British and Free French. The two
European actors tried to mobilise rhetoric that appealed to nationalist
sentiments and bolstered their respective prestige. However, it quickly
became apparent that the two partners had entirely different motivations
for pursuing this approach. The Foreign Office knew that the fate of
the Levant was important. Other Middle Eastern states were watching
closely to see if Britain would put pressure on France to follow through
on independence. De Gaulle, on the other hand, preferred to resist
nationalist demands as long as possible. He wanted to ensure that his
Levant representatives would first conclude favourable Franco-Syrian
and Franco-Lebanese treaties. As underlying British and Free French
political and military tactics clashed, local voices became a useful barom-
eter to gauge respective successes and internal prestige.
The operations in Syria were further complicated by the obvious
superiority of British military power over that of the Free French. Brit-
ish and Imperial troops made up the bulk of the invasion and occupa-
tion forces. Spears had argued that troops from as many nationalities
as possible should take part in the operations as this would have a great
‘psychological effect’ on Vichy troops.113 Official statistics reported that
the operation included 9,000 British, 18,000 Australian, 2,000 Indian
and 5,000 Free French troops.114 Even though the British promoted the
Free French as the political custodians of the Levant states, there was
little they could do without British backup. This reality was a source of
frustration for de Gaulle. Eden reaffirmed the British policy of Syrian
independence following the cessation of hostilities on 14 July, writing
to Cairo-based British Minister of State Oliver Lyttelton in these terms:
‘It was never our intention that Free French should virtually step into
the place of the Dentz Administration or that they should govern Syria
in the name of France’.115 Prior to departing his post, Wavell expressed
similar concerns. He believed that if the local population came to believe
that the Free French planned to renege on their promises, it would have
a negative effect upon British prestige locally and throughout the Arab
world.116 To this end, the British sought to bolster their own legitimacy
in the Middle East through renewed proclamations of independence.
At the same time, there were other risks involved. Appearing to trample
over Free French interests in favour of British ones risked losing support
113 Spears to Foreign Office, 1 June 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA.
114 Cypher, C. in C. Middle East to War Office, 4 July 1941, WO 216/10, TNA.
115 Cypher, Foreign Secretary to Lyttelton, 3 July 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA.
116 Cypher, C. in C. Middle East to War Office, 2 July 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA.

within metropolitan France. This meant that internal disagreements had

to be carefully hidden. De Gaulle was also in favour of masking the level
of British power behind the invasion and occupation. Doing so would
advance his legitimacy, at least on a rhetorical level. He also predicted that
if the Anglo-Gaullist alliance fell apart, this would allow the Axis and Vichy
to turn French opinion against them.117 De Gaulle warned Churchill that
international opinion would be ‘watching closely the attitude which Great
Britain will take towards the position of France in this region’.118
De Gaulle’s position on Levantine mandate status was not dissimi-
lar to the interwar policies deployed by French mandate officials. He
acknowledged that, as a League of Nations mandate holder, France had
a long-term commitment to prepare Syria and Lebanon for an indepen-
dent indigenous government. At the same time, he was more than willing
to maintain French authority in the (unspecified) interim by using vio-
lent and authoritarian tactics.119 De Gaulle was fundamentally unwilling
to relinquish French political primacy in what he believed were now Free
French territories. He thought that he could quell any local opposition
by reiterating promises of independence. But his version of indepen-
dence demanded the continuation of established French institutions.120
De Gaulle’s understanding of independence was not new. It echoed
French and British interwar assumptions about mandate governance.
Mandate holders did not need to assert formal sovereignty indefinitely
over their mandates. Preferential treaties could ensure that these ter-
ritories remained tied to the mandate holder even after independence,
economically and politically.121
The British were not fundamentally opposed to de Gaulle’s vision,
but they also had to consider strategic and troubling regional interests of
their own in Palestine, Egypt and Iraq. Churchill, responding to rumours
that Britain desired to usurp the French role in the Levant, wrote to
former League of Nations delegate René Cassin, ‘This country has no
intention of upsetting French rights in Syria. On the contrary, we desire
to assure those rights against every other power’.122 However, Churchill’s
117 De Gaulle to Churchill, June 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN.

118 Cypher, de Gaulle to Churchill, 29 June 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA. De Gaulle to
Churchill, 29 June 1941, 18GMII/39, MAE.
119 For more on contrasting French and British approaches to interwar mandate gover-
nance and indirect rule, see Martin Thomas, ‘French Intelligence-Gathering in the
Syrian Mandate, 1920–40’, Middle Eastern Studies 38, no. 1 (2002): 1–3.
120 De Gaulle to Pleven, 5 June 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN.
122 Churchill to Cassin, July 1941, 18GMII/39, MAE.

assurances, both privately and in the Commons, were never carried fur-
ther than vague promises. Nowhere in the British government was the
preservation of French influence a priority over Britain’s own regional
interests. Even Spears, the original champion of the Free French move-
ment, was clear on this matter. Writing to Consul-General Robert Parr
at the Spears Mission in Brazzaville, he stated decisively, ‘No French
officer however high in rank must ever be allowed to run down British
authorities and if any should forget, as some apparently do, that we are
the predominant partner in the Alliance, they must be gently reminded
of this fact. No French soldier would have a rifle in his hand or a franc in
his pocket were it not for us’.123
British concerns surrounding the stability of the Arab region were evi-
dent throughout the operation. Most importantly, they impacted how
Wavell explained the invasions to local audiences in the Middle East.
He soon abandoned his initial attempts to legitimise the operation by
arguing that troops were meeting little or no resistance from Vichy. He
decided these depictions were no longer credible and were in fact creat-
ing suspicions of British duplicity amongst those observing the course
of the invasion in Palestine and Egypt.124 He informed the War Office
‘We are now taking line that opposition was in fact thin and sporadic at
first but that in the nature of things fighting once started does spread
and consequently opposition is now more general and fighting has been
severe in places’.125 Unlike previous operations, the War and Foreign
Offices believed that the invasion and occupation of the Levant would
only be successful if they could manage ‘Arab opinion’. By this they
meant wider local opinion in the Levant but also in the broader Middle
East. This meant managing the expectations of local nationalist leaders
but also avoiding broader popular unrest. Plans to manage local opin-
ion were integrated into the operational plans constructed by the War
and Foreign Offices. Wavell was responsible for issuing ‘proclamations’
to local press agencies in Cairo and Jerusalem immediately following
the launch of Exporter while the Foreign Office managed the invasion-
related propaganda in India and Turkey.126
Wavell’s early reports stressed that ‘the Arabs’ seemed generally
pleased at the British arrival. But tensions between the British and
123 Spears to Spears Mission, Brazzaville, 23 July 1941, GB165-0269, Box 1A MECA.
124 Secret Cipher Telegram, C in C Middle East to War Office, 19 June 1941, WO 193/969,
TNA.
125 Secret Cipher Telegram, C. in C. Middle East to War Office, June 1941, WO 193/959,
TNA.
126 Secret Cipher Telegram, C. in C. Middle East to War Office, 7 June 1941, WO 106/3073,
TNA.

Gaullist leadership soon became apparent.127 A telegram from the War

Office warned Wavell that after Dentz’s 10 July request to negotiate terms
for an armistice, de Gaulle appeared to have ceded General Catroux the
full powers previously enjoyed by Dentz. This, he hoped, would exclude
the British from any real control.128 De Gaulle was growing increasingly
anxious about the emerging power structure in the Levant. He believed
that the departure of Wavell from Cairo to his new position as Viceroy
of India had ‘left the field clear for the passions of the “arabophiles”’.129
Dentz’s refusal to negotiate with the Free French further annoyed de
Gaulle, especially when Churchill informed Lyttelton that it was crucial
that terms were signed even if it meant sidelining the Free French.130
On the evening of 12 July, General Wilson and Dentz’s representative,
General Joseph de Verdilhac, signed armistice terms. These were rati-
fied on 14 July, after which the War Cabinet quickly created the Com-
mittee on Foreign (Allied) Resistance in Syria. Led by Major Morton,
this new committee became the central informational and policy-making
hub. The committee began meeting on 18 July and was kept informed of
both military and political issues in the Levant by the War, Foreign and
Colonial Offices.131 However, in the weeks to follow, it became clear that
Anglo-Gaullist interests in the region were not always compatible. The
result was that each side mobilised its own rhetoric to try to compete for
support within the Middle East and Levant states alike.
After the Armistice: Imperial Tension

and Emerging Rhetorical Battlegrounds
Philip Khoury has argued that the British presence in Syria was decisive
in establishing Syrian independence.132 Independence movements had
existed well before the outbreak of war, but there was never one distinct
sense of Arab nationalism.133 And it was more than simply the arrival
of British or Imperial forces in Syria that spurred on these movements.
The Foreign Office encouraged local representatives like Lampson and
127 Secret Cipher Telegram, C. in C. Middle East to War Office, 10 June 1941, WO
106/3073, TNA.
128 Secret Cipher Telegram, War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 1 July 1941, WO
106/3073, TNA.
129 Charles de Gaulle, War Memoirs. Volume One: The Call to Honour 1940–1942, trans.
Jonathan Griffin (London: Collins, 1955), 194.
130 Note, Churchill to Lyttelton, 12 July 1941, WO 216/10, TNA.
131 War Cabinet, Committee on Foreign (Allied) Resistance (Syria), 18 July 1941,
GB165-0269, Box 1 File 4, MECA.
133 Gelvin, Divided Loyalties, 7.

After the Armistice 165
Lyttelton to garner Arab support regardless of the consequences for Free

French prestige. De Gaulle wrote bitterly of the armistice agreement that
it did not contain ‘a word about the rights of France, either for the pres-
ent or for the future’ and accused the British of imperial greed.134 On
16 July, de Gaulle left Brazzaville for Cairo, reportedly in a very ‘anti
British mood’.135 His early disappointment regarding the armistice would
soon be magnified when he discovered that it contained a secret protocol
forbidding personal contact between Vichy French and Allied forces. In
the months to come, he continued to object strongly to Britain’s Arab-
centred policy. What was most galling was that Arab opinion, and not
Free French demands, held sway throughout the Foreign Office and
within the Middle East Command (MEC).
A Foreign Office memorandum warned that Arab opinion would
react badly if too much power was granted to the Free French in Syria,
especially if the British were seen to be playing little or no role.136 More
explicit instructions sent to Lampson emphasised, ‘support of Arab
world is of greater importance to us and we must not risk losing this
in our material desire to meet Free French wishes’.137 Lampson and
Auchinleck (now Commander in Chief Middle East) were instructed to
prioritise Arab opinion when it came to policies that could be viewed as
prejudicial to independence.138 While the Foreign Office and MEC were
primarily concerned with Arab reactions, Churchill and the MOI contin-
ued to stress the importance of strengthening images of Franco-British
cooperation at home. British policy in the Levant thus faced the chal-
lenge of appealing to disparate audiences with often diverging demands –
in the Levant, in France and in Britain.
The end of the Syrian campaign was met with ‘relief everywhere’ on
the British home front.139 British press responses to Dentz’s request for
an armistice encouraged speculation over the future of the French posi-
tion in the Levant. Most articles pointed out that the German threat
had demanded engagement. The campaign was ‘forced upon the British
and the Free French against their will and against their hearts’.140 Now
that the fighting was finally over, the press returned to the idea that
134 De Gaulle, Call to Honour, 194.

135 Spears Mission, Brazzaville to War Office, 16 July 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A,
MECA.
136 Note, Foreign Office to Churchill, 14 July 1941, WO 216/10, TNA.
137 Telegram, Foreign Office to Lampson, 14 July 1941, WO 216/10, TNA. Telegram,
Foreign Office to Lampson, 14 July 1941, PREM 3/422/7, TNA.
138 Ibid.
139 Weekly Intelligence Reports, 9–16 July, INF 1/292, TNA.
140 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘No Vindictive Terms Likely’, The Times, 10 July 1941, 4.

Vichy troops had been pressured into resistance by the Germans.141

An article entitled ‘French Dupes in Syria’ stipulated that prisoner
statements revealed that Vichy troops did not want to fight the British.
Rather, they had been deceived by the Germans, who convinced them
that they had never used and never would use Syria as a base for oper-
ations against their former ally. Thus, they mistakenly believed they
were simply defending their territorial integrity from an unprovoked
Anglo-Free French invasion.142 Another article portrayed General de
Verdilhac as no less than an honourable Frenchman, who, upon arriv-
ing at the negotiations, ‘winked broadly, drew his hand quickly across
his throat, and whispered in a voice full of meaning, “Les Boches”’.143
These assertions and others that celebrated the rapid transition of
Vichy troops to the Allied side were substantially exaggerated. They
attempted to give de Gaulle an elevated role in the conflict. And they
were consistent with repeated attempts to discredit a very specific circle
of ‘Vichy men’, paving the way for the exoneration of the majority of
Frenchmen.
Still, de Gaulle remained unhappy with the content of the armistice,
particularly the additional protocol. This led to an exchange of letters
between Lyttelton and de Gaulle, culminating in the Lyttelton–de Gaulle
agreement. This understanding simply put in writing Lyttelton’s assur-
ance that Britain had no desire to usurp the Levant from the French. He
confirmed ‘… on the British side we recognise the historic interests of the
French in the Levant. Great Britain has no interest in Syria or the Leba-
non except to win the war’.144 Churchill attributed de Gaulle’s frustration
to his failure, not only to rally Vichy troops to his cause but also to gain
recognition for the Free French movement as the ‘true France’. Even at
this stage, the Armistice Convention listed de Verdilhac as the represen-
tative of the French government and not the Vichy government.145
In practice, the Free French movement was not awarded the pri-
mary political role that de Gaulle had envisaged. Prior to his departure,
Wavell issued instructions to the British mass media to avoid using
the word ‘armistice’ in all reports. They should instead describe the
agreement as a ‘convention’. When the War Office asked Wavell for
clarification on this issue of word choice, he responded that the press
141 Special Correspondent, ‘The Fighting in Syria: Vichy Prisoners Confused about the
Issues’, The Guardian, 12 July 1941, 4.
142 Special Correspondent, ‘French Dupes in Syria’, The Times, 11 July 1941, 3.
143 Special Correspondent, ‘Armistice in Syria’, The Times, 14 July 1941, 4.
144 ‘Extracts from Lyttelton-de Gaulle Agreement’, 25 July 1941, PREM 3/423/4, TNA.
‘Projet d’accord Franco Britannique au Levant’, 25 July 1941, 18GMII/43, MAE.
145 Cypher Telegram, Churchill to Lyttelton, July 1941, PREM 3/422/6, TNA.

should be told that a convention was a lasting agreement, rather than

a temporary expedient.146 Of course, calling the agreement a conven-
tion also avoided connotations of animosity that were inherent in the
term ‘armistice’. These strategic efforts to recast Exporter outside of a
military framework using neutral vocabulary were thwarted. One hour
before Wavell’s instructions arrived, the British media received a tele-
gram from New York announcing that an armistice had been signed.
Thus, ‘the whole of the British press had made use of the word “armi-
stice” and not “convention”’.147 These tactics were not employed solely
or even primarily to placate the British public. The MOI had already
concluded that the majority of British people were not only supportive
of the operation, but in favour of a harsher stance towards metropolitan
France as a whole. Rather, the British government’s media manipula-
tion underlined the continued belief within the War Cabinet that the
notion of a Franco-British alliance should not be abandoned. This con-
viction was forward looking. It anticipated an Allied victory, and with it
a reforging of this relationship.
Attempting simultaneously to protect the Franco-British and the
Anglo-Arab relationship became increasingly challenging as time went
on. This will become more apparent in the final two chapters, when
the British responded to unilateral and violent Free French policy ini-
tiatives in 1943 and 1945. In 1941, it was still possible to engage in a
wait and see approach. Lyttelton’s negotiations with de Gaulle were a
good example of this frame of mind. They underlined the hope that cur-
rent tensions between Free French and (particularly Syrian) nationalist
groups could be solved without damaging Britain’s regional prestige. In
the Commons, Churchill addressed this same sentiment publicly. After
announcing the conclusion of a military convention in Syria, he empha-
sised that Britain had no territorial ambitions. To the contrary, ‘our
only objective in occupying the country has been to beat the Germans
and help to win the war’.148 As it became obvious that regional stability
and Syrian and Lebanese independence were closely intertwined, this
position became untenable. Political realities in the Levant also made
it difficult to maintain a coherent and consistent rhetoric of Anglo-Free
French relations. A Free French memo noted that although difficulties
might be encountered between themselves and the British regarding the
146 War Office to C. in C. Middle East, 15 July 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA. C.
in C. Middle East to War Office, 15 July 1941, GB165-0269 Box 1A, MECA.
147 Draft Message, from Lt. Col D.D.I.P, 17 July 1941, WO 106/5707, TNA.
148 Hansard HC Deb vol. 373 col. 464 (15 July 1941) http://hansard.millbanksystems
.com/commons/1941/jul/15/war-situation.

administration of Syria, it was essential to present the image of an entente

parfaite to the Syrian population.149
By late July, the British press had stopped reporting extensively
on the Levant. It was focusing instead on the newly opened Russian
front. However, regional issues in the Levant continued to complicate
Anglo-Free French relations. De Gaulle’s advisors informed him that
the attitude of the British in Syria was dictated by Britain’s imperial
engagements with the Arabs and the desire to cultivate better relations
with the Turks.150 His response was to embark on an extensive press
campaign, the goal of which was to re-establish French legitimacy in the
region, as well as on a global level. Working alongside the Free French
Press Services, de Gaulle recognised that French administrators in the
Levant would need international backing and acquiescence in order to
wield a free hand. Since late July, he had instructed Catroux to compile
‘precise facts’ regarding German activities in Syria in order to clarify
world opinion.151
Free French policy after Exporter aimed to consolidate French influ-
ence in the Levant. It showed a reluctance to relinquish the mandate
and a worrying tendency to downplay the strength of nationalist senti-
ment. This increased tensions between British and Free French policy-
makers. Still smarting from what he believed were British intrigues in the
Levant, on 1 September de Gaulle conducted an interview with George
Weller from the Chicago Daily News. He claimed that Vichy was serving
as an intermediary between Britain and Germany, and that, like Ger-
many, Britain’s aim was also to exploit Vichy.152 After being confronted
by Churchill, de Gaulle, although apologising, maintained his belief that
the Free French role in Syria was under threat.153
Official communiqués issued by Carleton Gardens employed themes
of sovereignty, much like Vichy had done a few months earlier, in order
to legitimise the Free French position in the Levant. Rhetoric like this
directly contradicted local calls for independence. Paul Henri Siriex,
Chief of Free French Press Services, wrote numerous press releases,
which emphasised repeatedly that the Levant states were not subjugated
to French rule. They were willing participants in a broader resurrec-
tion of French greatness, an objective they shared and understood. One
149 ‘Mémoire concernant l’administration des états de Syrie et du Liban’, July 1941,
AG/3(1)/202, AN.
150 Télégramme Chiffre, au de Gaulle, Beyrouth, 2 August 1941, AG/3(1)/204, AN.
151 Télégramme, de Gaulle au Catroux, 20 July 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN.
152 De Wailly, Syrie 1941, 415.
153 ‘Record of a Meeting between the Prime Minister and General de Gaulle’, 12
September 1941, PREM 3/422/3, TNA.

report hailed as indistinguishable the patriotic sentiments of both the

French and Lebanese populations in Beirut. ‘For the first time since
the Armistice, the inhabitants of Beirut can show freely their patriotism
and attachment to France; the spontaneous celebration contrasted with
the oppressive and sad regime instituted by Vichy’.154 This celebration
of local affinity for the French was hardly a new tactic. Eugene Rogan
described a similar episode during the centenary festivals in Algiers in
1930. Here too, the French had used rhetoric to commemorate local
fealty and ‘undying attachment to the motherland’.155 As de Gaulle trav-
elled throughout Syria that autumn, the Free French Information Ser-
vice issued a steady stream of press reports that emphasised the French
spirit of the Levant and the attachment of the general population to the
Free French cause.156
De Gaulle proclaimed the independence and sovereignty of the Syr-
ian State on 27 September, and Catroux (on behalf of de Gaulle) pro-
claimed Lebanese independence on 26 November. But real power still
remained in French hands.157 Responding to pressure from the Foreign
Office, Catroux had reinstated the 1936 constitution, but the coincid-
ing Cabinet was appointed, not elected.158 At its head as president was
Shaykh Taj al-Din al-Hasani, who D. K. Fieldhouse has described
as ‘the central all-purpose French ally in Syria’.159 Maronite states-
man, Alfred Georges Naccache, was named as the Lebanese presi-
dent. More troubling for Britain, but also the United States, was the
language of Catroux’s statement regarding Lebanese independence.
The Foreign Office feared that Catroux’s commitment to fixing Leba-
non’s current territorial boundaries could rankle with Syria and also
‘disturb the relations between Great Britain and the Arab World’.160
Free French reluctance to concede full independence was also viewed
as a threat to both British and American interests. Cornelius van
Hemert Engert, the American Consul General in Beirut, warned that
‘all unnecessary limitation of Lebanese independence merely to serve
French vanity is undesirable and will not only be criticized locally but
will be used by Nazi propaganda’.161 The conclusion of Exporter as a
154 ‘Paul Henri Siriex, Haifa’, 26 July 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN.

155 Rogan, The Arabs, 294.
156 France Libre, Service de l’Information, 12 August 1941, 18GMII/49, MAE.
157 Ahmed M. Gomaa, The Foundation of the League of Arab States: Wartime Diplomacy
and Inter-Arab Politics 1941–1945 (London: Longman, 1977), 87.
159 Ibid., 263.
160 The Consul General at Beirut (Engert) to the Secretary of State, 13 November 1941,
Document 864, FRUS.
161 Ibid.

military engagement thus brought political concerns to the fore and

introduced new anxieties regarding the future of the Levant states and
the Arab world.
Conclusion
In October, Churchill appointed Spears as Minister of State, Beirut.
The role that he eventually played in pushing for independence would
be the source of untold Anglo-Free French friction.162 Even before his
appointment, Lyttelton had requested to Catroux that Spears be pres-
ent at treaty negotiations between France/Syria and France/Lebanon.
De Gaulle was fundamentally opposed to this idea. He argued that if
this request was in line with the general sentiment of the British govern-
ment, then it was evidently a political line that was ‘irreconcilable with
the sovereign rights of France’.163 After Exporter, the ultimate fate of the
Levant states became a vital issue in British foreign policy and remained
so into the post-war period. The War Cabinet confirmed its attitude at a
meeting on 5 September: ‘No action should be taken which would indi-
cate that Syria was necessarily to remain under Free French control’.164
After successfully ousting General Dentz and the Vichy administration
from Syria, the British government as a whole was forced to confront a
situation in which competing French, Syrian, Lebanese and Arab ideas
of nationalism were of primary importance. By publicly supporting a
policy of independence, Britain hoped to strengthen its own reputation
throughout the Middle East and particularly in Palestine. The following
chapters will build upon these early efforts, identifying how changes in
the broader wartime context, including the entry of the United States
into the war and the growing likelihood of Allied victory, configured the
contours of British Middle Eastern strategy. In particular, this approach
will consider how publicly espoused policy actually limited material
responses to the French arrest of the Lebanese Parliament in 1943 and
the bombardment of Damascus in 1945.
Amongst the British public, the Exporter operations were initially crit-
icised for progressing too slowly, an outcome that was attributed to mis-
placed sympathy for Vichy troops. On the other hand, from the beginning,
British officials believed that the operation would be more successful if it
was represented as a Free French initiative. British policy-makers in the
162 Thomas, French Empire, 108.

163 Télégramme, de Gaulle au Cassin, 1 August 1941, AG/3(1)/202, AN.
164 War Cabinet, Committee on Foreign (Allied) Resistance (Syria), GB165-0269 Box
1 File 4, MECA.

Conclusion 171
Cabinet and Foreign Office hoped that this approach would increase the
legitimacy of the operation and forestall Vichy and Axis propaganda. But
stiff opposition from Vichy troops and the general unpopularity of the
Free French amongst the local population led to further complications.
This was especially evident in the extent to which British rhetoric tried to
shore up both the Anglo-Free French and the Anglo-Arab relationships.
The British could not simultaneously support Gaullist policy, which per-
sisted in maintaining France’s ‘rightful’ place in the Levant and polish its
image amongst Arab nationalists. Unless, that is, the latter were willing
to conclude a treaty in line with French demands. But both British and
Free French officials recognised that images of Franco-British alliance
were essential to maintaining the credibility of their narratives of Allied
victory and French liberation. Visible cracks in the partnership would
make it difficult to combat Vichy’s accusations of British perfidy and the
historic Franco-British rivalry.
From a strategic point of view, the ongoing conflict and the pressing
need to reallocate scarce men and resources meant that unrest in either
the Levant or the broader Middle East was highly undesirable. When
push came to shove, the British would choose regional security and long-
term prestige over placating Free French desires for continued influence.
The British were careful to construct a rhetoric that was based around
promises of independence, thereby assuring themselves of local support.
The following weeks and months would see these claims tested by de
Gaulle’s reluctance to give up the territory without concluding the pref-
erential treaty he was demanding. Exporter established the groundwork
for a shift from an Anglo-Vichy to an Anglo-Gaullist conflict based on a
by now familiar rhetoric of sovereignty and imperial rights.

6 Operation Torch
American Influence and the Battle for French
North Africa
In the early morning hours of 8 November 1942, Anglo-American forces

moved into action. Their goal was to consolidate Allied power in French
North Africa, which remained loyal to the Vichy government. Opera-
tion Torch was a turning point in the Allied struggle. For the first time,
American forces took the lead in a military operation. But American
predominance was not solely a question of material resources. It was also
a strategy designed to persuade Vichy troops to decamp to the Allies.
American President Franklin Delano Roosevelt and the Combined
Chiefs of Staff (CCS) hoped that by promoting Torch as an opportu-
nity for Franco-American cooperation, they would avoid the resistance
associated with British ventures and notions of Franco-British rivalry.
America’s entry into the war in December 1941 gave the Allies a much-
needed injection of men and materials. It also shifted the wartime nar-
rative. Some of these narratives, such as the promise of victory, held
firm. Others, including expectations for post-war reconstruction and the
future of empire began to change. Previous studies have analysed in great
detail the broader political, military and logistical aspects of these opera-
tions.1 However, Torch was much more than a military endeavour. It
showcased the dominance of American power. This shift in the balance
of power also altered (in subtle and more obvious ways) the rhetoric of
the conflict.
From the moment that planning for Torch began, rhetoric was used
as a tool to legitimise the operations. In addition to appealing to public
sentiment in Britain and metropolitan France, Anglo-American planners
wanted to offer territorial assurances to neutral states, including Franco’s
Spain and Salazar’s Portugal. They also sought to placate Vichy troops
1 See, for instance, Arthur Layton Funk, The Politics of Torch: The Allied Landings and the
Algiers Putsch 1942 (Lawrence, Kansas: The University Press of Kansas, 1974). Keith
Sainsbury, The North African Landings 1942: A Strategic Decision (London: Davis-
Poynter, 1976). Peter Mangold, Britain and the Defeated French: From Occupation to
Liberation, 1940–1944 (London: I. B. Tauris, 2012), Chapter 11.
172

American Influence and the Battle for French North Africa 173
and white settlers in Algeria and manage the demands of the Soviet
Union. Having entered the conflict in June 1941 following invasion by
German troops, the Soviets had been pressuring the Allies to open a sec-
ond front. This would lift some of the burden from beleaguered Soviet
troops. Roosevelt used rhetoric to portray Torch as an effective second
front even though it fell far short of this level of commitment. Neither
Churchill, Roosevelt, nor the CCS believed that Torch met Soviet Leader
Joseph Stalin’s demands. Rhetoric, then, was used as a means to confirm
wartime ideals. It was also a way to publicly declare that Torch fulfilled
Anglo-American commitments to their Soviet allies. Orchestrating Allied
justifications for carrying out the Torch invasions involved a complex
array of letters, statements, leaflets and broadcasts. Each communication
tried to anticipate – and thus to pre-empt – varying levels of dissent from
numerous interested parties.
The commanders of the Anglo-American task force believed that it
was of primary importance that North Africa be captured with a mini-
mum of resistance from Vichy forces. The implications of this objec-
tive were far reaching in moulding the nature of the operation itself,
strategically and rhetorically. In particular, this goal necessitated that
Torch’s senior American commanders retained great flexibility in their
dealings with the Vichy officials in situ. After the landings, Roosevelt
played a central role in maintaining Admiral François Darlan as head
of government in French North Africa. The so-called ‘Darlan deal’ was
condemned by British public and parliamentary opinion. In sharp con-
trast to the willingness evident amongst the American press and public
to accept Darlan’s assistance as a matter of military necessity, the British
response betrayed a deeply personal connection to the moral identity of
the war. British decision-makers found themselves in the position of hav-
ing to justify a policy that contradicted its earlier narratives of a just and
moral war. Ministry of Information (MOI) Home Intelligence Reports
indicated that the criticism in the British mass media of the Darlan affair
derived from moral qualms rather than strategic doubts about the wis-
dom of the North African landings. Public valuations of military prog-
ress, or indeed victory, were, as in previous operations, being measured
against certain ethical standards. The Joint Planning Staff (JPS) knew
this, and its members wielded discrete rhetorical strategies to try to rec-
oncile competing military and political agendas.
The JPS recognised that the decision to work with Darlan needed to
be justified and, in some measure, played down. Responding to harsh
criticism at home, official British rhetoric tried to distance British policy
from any deals made with Darlan by shifting the focus to the American
leadership. Churchill attempted to soften the policy by refusing outright

174 American Influence and the Battle for French North Africa
to discuss the deal on the floor of the House of Commons. Both strata-
gems pointed to an underlying acknowledgement that the agreements
made were perhaps neither as temporary nor as contingent as public and
parliamentary sentiment would have liked. Explicit promises to remove
Darlan from his role as head of the Algiers government could not be
made in good faith. The decision to work with Darlan also had a wider
impact. It damaged the legitimacy of the pro-Allied resistance move-
ments sponsored by the British Special Operations Executive (SOE) and
the American Office of Strategic Services (OSS).2 The arguments that
arose around the Darlan deal highlighted the tensions between policies
based on military expediency and policies perceived as moral compro-
mise. From the inception of Torch, until Darlan’s assassination on 24
December 1942, the Allies found themselves trying to align the opera-
tions with the expectations of diverse interest groups – at home, in the
empire and within the alliance itself.
Planning Operation Torch: American

Leadership and the Second Front
For much of 1942, the Allied war effort was suffering a series of military
defeats and setbacks. In the Far East, Malaya, the Philippines, the Dutch
East Indies and Burma fell to Japan. German General Erwin Rommel’s
26 May offensive captured Tobruk, a huge blow to the Allies in the Mid-
dle East. Seven days after the Tobruk victory, Hitler launched a powerful
summer offensive in the Soviet zone.3 In August, the Canadian assault
force sent to capture the port of Dieppe in northern France was nearly
annihilated. The operation was meant to be an intelligence gathering
exercise and an opportunity to test landing capabilities. Its success would
have boosted morale in Britain and France by showing Allied strength
and commitment to retaking mainland Europe.
Japanese advances, in particular the fall of Singapore in February, also
set in motion British plans to invade Madagascar. This operation, which
excluded Free French participation, increased tensions between the Brit-
ish government and de Gaulle, already on the rise due to clashes over the
governance of Syria and Lebanon. Decision-makers in the Foreign Office
2 Philip Bell, ‘British Public Opinion and the Darlan Deal: November–December
1942’, Journal of the British Institute in Paris, no. 7 (1989): 71–79. T. C. Wales, ‘The
“Massingham” Mission and the Secret “Special Relationship”: Cooperation and
Rivalry between the Anglo-American Clandestine Services in French North Africa,
November 1942–May 1943’, Intelligence and National Security 20, no. 1 (2005): 44–71.
1940–1942 (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1988), 241.

Planning Operation Torch 175
and service ministries insisted that Free French involvement would jeop-
ardise the secrecy of the operation and risk a second Dakar.4 Governed
by ardent Pétainist Paul Annet, Madagascar was strategically important.
If the Vichy government allowed Japanese forces to use the island as an
operational base, this would jeopardise the security of the Indian Ocean
and hamper communications between Britain, South Africa and the
Australian dominions.
Operation Ironclad commenced on 5 May 1942. The British gained
complete control of the island six months later, with a final armistice
signed on 6 November. By this time, planning for the North African
invasions was nearly complete. Although the British government had
announced on 14 May that Free France would play a role in political
considerations in Madagascar, the timing of Free French involvement
remained unclear, much to de Gaulle’s anger.5 British reluctance to
hand over the reins to de Gaulle in Madagascar reflected the continued
unpopularity of the Free French across the island, ongoing suspicions
of Free French incompetence amongst the Chiefs of Staff (COS) and
the growing influence of American authorities, many of whom remained
sceptical of if not hostile towards de Gaulle’s movement.
Planning for Operation Torch thus began in the midst of both mili-
tary setbacks and shifting interallied relationships. The British war effort
faced criticism at home. In July, Churchill had undergone a parliamen-
tary vote of no confidence, although he passed it easily. The Anglo-
Gaullist relationship was strained as a result of disagreements over Free
France’s role in the Middle East and its exclusion from the Madagascar
operations. And for the first time, British decision-makers were under
pressure from their relatively new Soviet and American partners.
The Anglo-Soviet relationship was never an easy one. Britain’s failure
to conclude an agreement with Stalin prior to the outbreak of war, the
later conclusion of the Molotov–Ribbentrop pact and core ideological
and political differences meant that both parties continued to harbour
deep suspicions over the other’s wartime intentions. Although British
public opinion favoured close cooperation with the Soviet Union, British
policy largely settled on a more arms-length approach. Foreign Secretary
Anthony Eden met Stalin for the first time on 16 December 1941. The
meeting was tense throughout because Eden refused to agree to recog-
nise Stalin’s territorial demands. Stalin also criticised Britain for not pro-
viding sufficient material support and for leaving Soviet troops to draw
4 Martin Thomas, ‘Imperial Backwater or Strategic Outpost? The British Takeover of

Vichy Madagascar, 1942’, The Historical Journal 39, no. 4 (1996): 1055.
5 Ibid., 1062.

the bulk of German firepower. After significant Soviet and media pres-
sure, on 5 December 1941, Britain declared war on Finland, Romania
and Hungary. This declaration was a symbolic rather than an immediate
material commitment to Soviet demands for a second front. On 26 May
1942, an Anglo-Soviet treaty was signed. It provided for mutual help
and assistance during and after the war and prohibited either side from
concluding a separate peace. During his visit to Moscow that August,
Churchill faced unrelenting pressure from Stalin for the opening of a sec-
ond front. While the British premier precluded a risky landing in France,
he came away from the Russian capital convinced that action in 1942
was crucial in order to reassure the Soviets. Roosevelt agreed.6
Anglo-American negotiations at the Washington-based Arcadia Con-
ference in December 1941 had already illustrated this shared desire to
conclude a successful offensive action before the end of 1942. A second
front would remove pressure from the Russians fighting in Stalingrad
while also satisfying growing public demands, particularly in the United
States, for a grand offensive gesture. However, Anglo-American rela-
tions had their own share of challenges. Early in 1942, Churchill and
Roosevelt clashed over the future of India. Roosevelt also had his own
ideas about post-war power structures. He did not view France as a great
power, and this belief would place Britain in the difficult position of bal-
ancing between American power and French demands and expectations.
Churchill was an early advocate of launching an Allied operation in
French North Africa. Its proximity to Libya and Egypt made it strate-
gically important. And the French Delegate General of North Africa,
Maxime Weygand, was rumoured to be sympathetic to the Allies.7 How-
ever, the American military establishment under Secretary of War Henry
Stimson initially opposed this policy. American Chief of Staff Gen-
eral George Marshall submitted American proposals for a small-scale
cross-channel attack in 1942 (Operation Sledgehammer), followed by a
large-scale invasion of Western Europe in 1943 (Operation Round-up).
However, his British counterpart, Chief of the Imperial General Staff,
Sir Alan Brooke was hesitant, as was Churchill. Scholars have described
these negotiations as the last time that Britain was able to successfully
challenge American plans.8 In reality, Roosevelt’s personal preference
for the North African operation also encouraged the Allies along this
course of action. Churchill also attributed Head of the British Military
6 David Reynolds, In Command of History: Churchill Fighting and Writing the Second
World War (London: Allen Lane, 2004), 316.
7 Weygand succeeded Admiral Jean-Marie Abrial in this post on 17 July 1941.
8 Sainsbury, North African Landings, 9. Dinan, Persuasion, 240.

Mission in Washington and close friend of Marshall, General John

Dill, with helping to seal the North African policy.9 In a meeting on 25
July 1942, the CCS agreed to prioritise the North African invasions.
A joint Anglo-American planning staff immediately set to work draft-
ing plans from their base at Norfolk House, London. On 14 August,
they appointed American General Dwight D. Eisenhower as Allied com-
mander-in-chief and the battle-seasoned Admiral Andrew Cunningham
as Allied naval commander of Expeditionary Force. On 29 September
and 2 October, the American and British COS approved the plans and
operational orders were issued on 8 October.10
When planning had begun in earnest that August, it became clear
that the success of the landings would depend on the level of resistance
encountered by the Vichy forces. Political intelligence provided by Rob-
ert D. Murphy, the US State Department representative stationed in
North Africa, concluded that the British were strongly disliked in the
region. However, the Americans were not.11 This observation had two
repercussions. First, the CCS agreed that the landings would be repre-
sented as American in order to avoid arousing anti-British sentiment from
local forces still resentful about the clashes at Mers el-Kébir, Dakar and
Syria. Some of the Vichy French troops stationed in the region had fought
in Syria against British–Free French troops.12 This decision would have
subsequent, and arguably beneficial, consequences for Britain. It would
allow Churchill’s government to distance itself from the decision to col-
laborate with Darlan. Second, Free French leader Charles de Gaulle was
to play no part in planning the operation.13 Roosevelt insisted that de
Gaulle could have no knowledge of the invasions until after the landings
had taken place. From the beginning, policy-makers believed that the
success of Torch depended upon how it was interpreted within North
Africa – as an act of American assistance rather than British aggression.
These assumptions influenced how the planning committee prepared its
justifications of the invasions. Murphy’s intelligence had indicated that
Vichy forces were less likely to resist an American invasion. This led
planners to the conclusion that resistance itself was not inevitable and
was at least in part symbolic. Although fighting alongside the British, the
9 Ibid., 247.
10 Captain S. W. Roskill, The War at Sea 1939–1945, Vol. 3, The Period of Balance
(London: Her Majesty’s Stationary Office, 1956), 312.
11 Andrew Cunningham, A Sailor’s Odyssey (London: Hutchinson, 1951), 478.
12 Chantal Metzger, Le Maghreb dans la Guerre 1939–1945 (Malakoff: Armand Colin,
2018), 151.
13 Renamed the Fighting French in July 1942. The term Free French will continue to be
used for the sake of clarity and consistency.

Americans had not precipitated attacks on Vichy installations. The US

had offered full diplomatic recognition to the Vichy government. Even
more importantly, historic Franco-American relations were suffused
with examples of cooperation rather than imperial rivalry.
The Foreign Office agreed that emphasising the appearance of Ameri-
can leadership during the landings would be beneficial. Information
gathered by twelve American Vice Consuls in North Africa, who were
also acting as spies, suggested that servicemen’s morale in North Africa
was declining. This was due to an increasing dislike of Vichy Foreign
Minister Pierre Laval’s collaborationist policies (Laval had returned to
office on 14 April 1942) and rising German demands for French food
and workers. Laval’s reinstatement was also a substantial blow to Franco-
American relations. The State Department recalled Vichy ambassador
Admiral Leahy for consultations, and the administration suspended the
supply of goods to Morocco.14 However, the French Navy remained
strongly Anglophobic. Although the army and air force were inclined to
be more sympathetic towards Britain, it was reported that they were even
more pro-American.15 Communications between the Foreign Office and
Lord Halifax, now British Ambassador to the United States, recognised
that, despite joint planning of Torch, the operation must ‘in its initial
stages bear a predominantly American appearance’.16 Churchill wrote to
Roosevelt in late October suggesting that the American Atlantic Flotilla
loan four American destroyers to sail with British units inside the Medi-
terranean. He believed that offensive action by the French fleet would be
reduced by the presence of these tag-alongs, and the auspicious presence
of the American flag.17
In the case of de Gaulle and his Free French movement, the Brit-
ish knew that associating his cause with the invasions would stiffen
Vichy resistance. Vichy’s understandable insistence on delegitimising de
Gaulle and his movement had already registered tangible repercussions
in past Anglo-Free French operations. At Dakar and Syria, for example,
local garrisons had fought unexpectedly hard. However, a JPS report
warned that excluding de Gaulle from Torch not only risked a crisis in
Anglo-Gaullist relations, but it also threatened to ‘damage his prestige in
14 Dinan, Persuasion, 244.

15 Memorandum, ‘Views recently expressed by Colonel Eddy, Colonel Solberg and
Colonel Strong about atmosphere in French North Africa’, 27 August 1942, PREM
3/349/20B, The National Archives (henceforth TNA).
16 Foreign Office to Halifax, 16 September 1942, FO 371/32134, TNA.
17 Churchill to Roosevelt, C-169, 21 October 1942 in Warren F. Kimball ed., Churchill
and Roosevelt the Complete Correspondence, vol. 1, Alliance Emerging October 1933–
November 1942 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), 634.

Metropolitan France, where his name has a strong symbolic value as a

focus of resistance …’.18 Responding to this report, Churchill expressed
his own, rather more pessimistic, belief that both the military and civil
authorities, as well as the majority of the French population in North
Africa, were already hostile to de Gaulle and to the British.19
Ultimately, Churchill presented only token resistance to Roosevelt’s
demands to keep the Free French in the dark about the Torch opera-
tion. Churchill did suggest informing de Gaulle of the landings a few
hours before they were due to take place. Roosevelt vetoed this idea,
and Churchill presented little objection.20 Churchill later told de Gaulle
that he was not included in the North African landings because it was
‘a United States enterprise and a United States secret’. To placate him,
Churchill planned to allow de Gaulle to announce General Paul Legent-
ilhomme as the governor general of Madagascar that Friday. This carrot,
Churchill informed Roosevelt, ‘we have been keeping for his consola-
tion prize’.21 Free French involvement in Madagascar was used by Brit-
ish authorities as a ‘bargaining chip’ to keep de Gaulle in line when he
objected to British policies in the Levant and French North Africa.22
Roosevelt never doubted that de Gaulle should be denied knowledge
of the operation. He told Churchill that the announcement of the gov-
ernor general would be perfectly adequate to save de Gaulle from any
embarrassment or loss of prestige.23 However, Roosevelt’s personal dis-
like of de Gaulle and his willingness to deal with other Frenchmen over
de Gaulle’s head would become a source of tension in the Anglo-Gaullist
and the Anglo-American relationship.24
Meanwhile, the Anglo-American planning committee moved forward
on the assumption that the appearance of American leadership and
initiative would positively affect the outcome of the Torch invasions.
In the initial landings, they believed that both British and Gaullist ele-
ments would compromise the ability of troops to consolidate local sup-
port quickly. Roosevelt himself was so sure of pro-American sentiment
that he considered resistance to American landing personnel unlikely.
18 JPS report, ‘Joint Political and Economic Action with U.S. Government’, 16 August
1942, FO 371/32133, TNA.
19 Churchill to Strang, 21 August 1942, FO 371/32133, TNA.
20 Alexander Cadogan, Churchill’s permanent undersecretary for Foreign Affairs wrote
privately that he thought Roosevelt’s insistence that de Gaulle be told nothing until
after the first landings was silly. David Dilks, ed., The Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan
1938–1945 (London: Cassell, 1971), 489.
21 Churchill to Roosevelt, C-185, 5 November 1942, Kimball, Alliance Emerging, 660.
22 Thomas, ‘Imperial Backwater’, 1073.
23 Roosevelt to Churchill, 5 November 1942, PREM 3/349/20A, TNA.
24 François Kersaudy, Churchill and De Gaulle (London: Fontana Press, 1990), 217–218.

This belief would prove misguided. In the course of September and

October, each side began coordinating a series of press releases, broad-
casts, appeals and literature that it believed would play a vital role in
consolidating support for the operation in a number of crucial spheres.
The informational material and statements were produced largely by
the American side of the planning staff but were critiqued by the For-
eign Office. They appealed to the white settler population within North
Africa and also addressed the people of metropolitan France, drawing
historic and emotive links between American intervention in 1917 and in
1942. After some debate, the planning staff also agreed to depict Torch
as a kind of second front. This decision made public the claim that the
Allies were pulling their weight in the war. However, the construction of
the invasions as the first step towards impending liberation and Allied
victory only months after a series of bitter defeats ran into complications.
Political and military aspects of the operations began to clash with public
perceptions of the moral direction of the war.
Rhetorical Strategies for Operation Torch

The publicity surrounding the Torch operations was nuanced and mul-
tifaceted. It had to appeal to a wide range of interest groups, each of
which expected the operations to satisfy its own demands. We know
that one of these groups was Soviet leaders, who were demanding the
opening of a second front. Another was the British public. In late Octo-
ber, Home Intelligence Reports noted a worrying decline in public
engagement with the conflict. This was attributed to the series of recent
military disappointments.25 At the same time, public opinion was uniting
around the expectation that something significant was about to happen:
an offensive move, ‘which has been anxiously awaited so long’.26 The
American Office of War Information drafted a series of press releases
and broadcasts that targeted additional interest groups: the North
African population, the people of France, the American public and the
neutral states of Spain and Portugal. The planning staff wanted to tread
carefully around the imperial sensibilities of Iberian leaders Francisco
Franco and António Salazar. Taking control of strategically vital French
colonial territory, particularly French Morocco, could be viewed as an
affront that would drive neutral Spain and Portugal into the war on the
side of the Axis powers. French Morocco was at this time under the pro-
Laval leadership of Resident General Charles Noguès.
25 Home Intelligence Weekly Report No. 107, 22 October 1942, INF 1/292, TNA.
26 Ibid.

Rhetorical Strategies for Operation Torch 181
North African publicity was also complex. Administratively, the region

had strong ties with metropolitan France. Internally, fractious relations
between Arabs, Jews and French settlers (who swung towards conserva-
tism) made it difficult to craft explanations for the invasions that would
appeal uniformly to each group. French North Africa was also home to
120,000 Italians and 76,500 Spaniards.27 Since the 1930s, the region
had experienced a sharp rise in anti-colonial nationalism. Algeria’s larg-
est and most coherent nationalist group, Messali Hadj’s Parti du Peuple
Algérien (Algerian People’s Party), grew in strength alongside Tunisia’s
Neó-Destour (Liberal Constitutional Party) and the Moroccan Action
Committee. Depression-era challenges had helped to shift the nature of
nationalist movements, from elitist and bourgeoisie pursuits to populist
movements whose unity was underwritten by powerful trade unions.28 By
1941, chronic shortages of fuel and food across North Africa were being
cited by nationalist groups (operating underground after being banned
between 1937 and 1939) as proof of the material and moral failure of the
French colonial system.29 However, in contrast to the Levant operations,
publicity surrounding Torch prioritised gaining support from the met-
ropolitan French population and French colonialists in North Africa. In
1942, local voices mattered very little because there was much less of an
immediate threat of coherent nationalist action.30
American publicity for Operation Torch prioritised the desire to mini-
mise resistance from Vichy forces. Its messages were similar in tone
to earlier British operational justifications. British Foreign Office staff
believed that their American counterparts at the Office of War Informa-
tion should base Roosevelt’s messages to French leaders on previous
British statements. The resulting American communiqués asserted that
German occupation of North Africa was imminent and that Allied inter-
vention was necessary and inevitable to forestall such a disaster. Highly
reminiscent of the operations at Dakar, one memo advised explaining
the arrival of American troops as a pre-emptive salvation from German
27 Christine Levisse-Touzé, ‘L’Afrique du Nord pendant la Seconde Guerre Mondiale’,

Relations Internationales no. 77 (Spring 1994): 9.
28 Ibid. Martin Thomas, ‘The Gendarmerie, Information Collection, and Colonial
Violence in French North Africa between the Wars’, Historical Reflections 36, no. 2
(Summer 2010): 87.
29 Martin Thomas, ‘Resource War, Civil War, Rights War: Factoring Empire into
French North Africa’s Second World War’, War in History 18, no. 2 (2011): 233, 238.
30 This is not to say that colonial administrators were not aware of the potential for
nationalist uprisings, even if the Paris provisional government retained the belief that
the empire could be rebuilt. From the summer of 1944, French intelligence predicted
that widespread disorder would break out in urban North Africa as soon as the war
was over. Thomas, ‘Resource War’, 243–247.

occupation. Intervention was devised ‘to secure this area for France at
the request of patriotic Frenchmen who have called upon their friends
for assistance’.31 Early communiqués stressed that the invasions were
primarily American in nature. The British played a supporting role in
the air and through naval action. No mention would be made of the
involvement of British ground troops. This decision was a product of
the belief that Anglophobic sentiment within North Africa could have a
significantly adverse impact upon the course of the operation.
Two documents were to be released immediately after the operation
commenced. The first was an initial military communiqué and the sec-
ond a broadcast message to the French people recorded in French by
Roosevelt. The Foreign Office did not think much of Roosevelt’s record-
ing, which they described as, at most, intelligible. In it, Roosevelt argued
predictably that the operations had become necessary in order to deal
with the threat of Axis incursion.32 Roosevelt’s broadcast was to be issued
simultaneously with the military communiqué and was addressed to both
metropolitan France and French North Africa. The Foreign Office felt
that it was crucial not to address the local population of French North
Africa in a separate address. Historic anti-imperial American rhetoric
might lead Vichy to suspect, or at least accuse, America of using the
invasions to foster local independence movements.33 The Foreign Office
requested a number of edits to the American documents. These requests
demonstrated that British decision-makers were willing to prioritise the
American complexion of the operation at its inception. But they insisted
upon maintaining and receiving credit for the landings as a joint endeav-
our after British troops had also established themselves on the ground.
Roosevelt’s initial broadcast to the French people made no reference to
British forces and was given only in the name of the United States. Fol-
lowing Foreign Office requests, a line was modified to refer to the United
Nations. This would make it easier for the British to integrate their role
in later communiqués.34 The revised address read: ‘The Americans, with
the help of the United Nations, are doing all that they can to ensure
a sound future, as well as the restitution of ideals, of liberties and of
democracy to all those who have lived under the Tricolour’.35
31 ‘Suggested Points to be Included in the President’s Messages to French Leaders’, 23

September 1942, FO 371/32134, TNA.
32 ‘French Text of First American Communiqué’, 6 November 1942, PREM 3/437/1,
TNA.
33 ‘Suggested Points for Presidential Proclamation’, 23 September 1942, FO 371/32134,
TNA.
34 Minutes by C. N. Stirling, 16 October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA.
35 Text of Roosevelt’s Broadcast, 5 November 1942, PREM 3/437/1, TNA.

A British statement expressing full support for American actions would

be issued after the two American communications. A joint Anglo-American
communiqué in the form of a broadcast and a leaflet was aimed exclusively
at metropolitan France. The two allies hoped to forestall any premature
attempts within the metropole to try and overthrow the Germans. They
believed this would provoke total occupation. The communications urged
the people of metropolitan France to ‘remain calm but on the alert’, as ‘we
enter today, into the offensive phase of the War of Liberation’.36 Roosevelt
believed that it was essential to carry French opinion on the side of Amer-
ican operations. Sensitive to the closeness of past American diplomatic
relations with Vichy, Marshall stressed that no direct statement should be
made – or line be taken – towards Vichy. Policy should be portrayed only
as working towards the ‘defeat of the axis powers and the preservation of
French administration in the colonies’.37 The Allied messages enhanced
the significance of Torch by representing it as a first step towards libera-
tion and a turning point (the offensive phase) in the conflict.
Allied communiqués argued that Torch represented the liberation and
moral rebirth of territory under Axis control. The Foreign Office gave the
Office of War Information precise recommendations for consolidating
French support based on its previous tactics. It suggested emphasising
the role that Germany was playing in destroying the French nation and
empire. These depictions should make it clear that the French population
was entirely opposed to pro-German policies ‘in which they had no voice
whatsoever and against which they had protested at the cost of lives and
suffering’.38 Readers should be reminded that German abuses of France
extended far beyond the economic realm by describing ‘the German
plan to destroy France morally, as in other fields she is endeavouring to
destroy her physically’.39 The British communiqué published in support
of American action likewise elevated the significance of the operations.
They would restore ‘the independence and greatness of France’.40 These
publications made France a great and moral nation, but only through its
association with Allied forces. By calling upon Vichy forces to lay down
their arms, the Allies also portrayed themselves as a benign force, which
had no designs upon French sovereignty or imperial rights.
36 Joint American and British declaration to French people, 4 November 1942, PREM
3/437/1, TNA.
37 Marshall to Eisenhower, 13 October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA.
38 ‘Suggested Lines of Propaganda for O.W.I.’, 25 September 1942, FO 371/32134,
TNA.
39 Ibid.
40 Draft Statement, ‘British Statement to be issued in support of U.S. broadcast’,
October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA.

We know that the issue of French metropolitan and imperial

sovereignty was at the root of tensions between Britain and the Vichy
government after the collapse of France. American involvement in the
war altered the rhetoric of these debates and complicated the Anglo-
American relationship. In October, a joint Anglo-American report
suggested using psychological warfare to increase support for the Allied
war effort in France and the French Empire. It used images of historic
Franco-American cooperation to remind French audiences that Ameri-
cans could be trusted to keep their word, even when it came to preserving
the integrity of the French Empire. This kind of language was criticised
in the Foreign Office. British policy-makers viewed repeated American
promises to guard the French Empire as offensive to British guaran-
tees. They objected especially to proposals that an American statement
should pledge ‘that Great Britain’s assurances that French territory will
be restored are fully supported in fact, law and morality by the pledged
word of the American Government and People’.41 Previous operations
involving French colonial territory and the French fleet had already
heightened imperial tensions. Speculations concerning the integrity of
British intentions had already been raised in both Vichy and Gaullist
quarters. Franco-British relations were at the same time deteriorating in
the Levant. Promises that appeared to insinuate British bad faith would
undermine British credibility and prestige while also fanning the flames
of imperial rivalry.
American rhetoric, however, continued to rely on historic imagery that
focussed exclusively on the Franco-American relationship, to the detri-
ment of its British partners. Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden described
the American attitude towards France as the ‘Lafayette problem’. He
believed that the Americans thought that they knew better how to
deal with the French than their British counterparts.42 Between 8 and
9 November, the RAF dropped nearly 22.5 million leaflets over occu-
pied and unoccupied France.43 They contained messages from Roos-
evelt and Eisenhower but made scant references to British contributions.
Included in these leaflets were nearly 5.5 million copies of an eight-page
illustrated folder. It was ‘strongly emotional – recalling by photographic
illustrations, [the] U.S.A.’s participation in France 1917–1918’.44 The
pamphlet was also inspired by much earlier examples of cooperation.
41 Foreign Office to US Major R. Le Mesurier, 17 October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA.

42 Mangold, Defeated French, 158.
43 ‘Leaflets dropped over France November 8th & 9th’, November 1942, FO 898/515,
TNA.
44 ‘Annexes to working plan for psychological warfare for France and the French
Empire’, October 1942, FO 898/131, TNA.

The first page featured a black and white image of the Statue of Liberty,
over which flew in vibrant colour French and American flags. A full-
page photograph of Les Invalides depicted French and American troops
on 4 July 1917 commemorating Franco-American cooperation during
the American Revolutionary War. The photo was titled ‘Une fraternité
ancienne nous unit’ and its caption quoted Lafayette’s address to the
American Congress in 1824.45 The emphasis throughout was on Ameri-
can troops and American arms. Earlier, Churchill had proposed drop-
ping leaflets in North Africa that would explain the role of British ground
forces. Roosevelt refused this request. Churchill’s reluctant acquiescence
in the matter only highlighted American dominance in determining the
rhetoric of the Torch operations.46 The materials that were distributed
during Torch attempted to create an image of Franco-American coop-
eration and partnership where British attempts had failed. At the same
time, the British and American press were instructed to avoid drawing
attention to resistance offered by Vichy troops and to ‘give the impres-
sion that our forces landed as allies’.47
During the final preparations for the landings, Roosevelt shared a press
release with Churchill. Although its intended audience was the Ameri-
can public, this and other releases found their way into the British press.
This communiqué set the tone for overall interpretations of the inva-
sions. It described the landings as the key turning point in the war and
attributed the bulk of the credit to the Americans, despite referencing for
the first time impending British ground reinforcement.48 The statement
also returned to the question of the second front. British ambassador in
Moscow, Archibald Clark Kerr, wrote to the Foreign Office as early as
17 October with his own advice for Torch. ‘When it comes to its psy-
chological effect upon the Russian people, which we must naturally wish
to be important and stimulating, [it] will depend largely, if not entirely,
upon the way in which the operation is presented to them’.49 However,
early Political Warfare Executive analyses concluded that portrayals of
Torch as a second front would not be credible. Rather, the operations
should be presented as a step towards a second front.50
45 Illustrated folder titled ‘Souvenez-vous’, November 1942, FO 898/515, TNA.

46 Churchill to Roosevelt, 6 November 1942, PREM 3/437/3, TNA. Minute, Eden to
Churchill, 21 October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA.
47 ‘Annexes to working plan for psychological warfare for France and the French
Empire’, October 1942, FO 898/131, TNA.
48 Roosevelt to Churchill, 27 October 1942, PREM 3/437/1, TNA.
49 Moscow to Foreign Office, 17 October 1942, PREM 3/439/20A, TNA.
50 ‘Appreciation of the political warfare situation in Western Europe in the light of
Torch’, 15 October 1942, FO 371/32135, TNA.

Even the original press directive issued by the Foreign Office was
clear that the invasions should not be referred to as a second front.
However, these instructions were altered after Roosevelt submitted his
press release.51 In late October, Roosevelt expressed to Churchill his
desire to be able to make the argument to Stalin that Torch satisfied
Allied obligations towards the Soviet Union.52 The American press
release blatantly characterised the invasions as providing ‘effective Sec-
ond Front assistance to our heroic Allies in Russia’.53 This outcome
had benefits for Britain as well. A confident statement could dampen
Soviet anger over Britain’s refusals to launch an immediate attack on
the German rear.54 Churchill wrote to Eden and Permanent Undersec-
retary for Foreign Affairs Alexander Cadogan that he believed describ-
ing Torch as a second front would get them out of a tight spot with
their Eastern allies.55 The conscious decision to portray the North
African operations as a fulfilment of Soviet demands illustrated the
importance of presentation in foreign policy and of putting pressure on
allies through rhetoric. Torch was the first major joint Anglo-American
operation. More importantly, it was the first time that the British ceded
so much operational and rhetorical initiative to its new ally. However,
operational commanders Eisenhower and Cunningham soon found
themselves reacting to a situation on the ground that was vastly dif-
ferent from what they had anticipated. This would force the Allies to
justify highly controversial and unforeseen decisions.
Reactions to Operation Torch, Collaborating

with Darlan and the Moral Hazard
Operation Torch commenced early on 8 November. There were points of
attack in Morocco (Port Lyautey, Fédala and Safi) and Algeria (Algiers,
Arzew and Oran). Approximately 96,000 British and American soldiers
took part in the initial naval attack.56 The attack included approximately
70,000 British and American assault troops and at Algiers and Oran a
maritime force of 340 British ships.57 The landings at Algiers met with
relatively little opposition, but there was fierce resistance from local naval
51 ‘General propaganda directive for Torch’, 3 November 1942, FO 371/32136, TNA.

52 Roosevelt to Churchill, R-202, 27 October 1942, Kimball, Alliance Emerging, 653.
53 Roosevelt to Churchill, 27 October 1942, PREM 3/437/1, TNA.
54 Richard Overy, Why the Allies Won (London: Pimlico, 2006), 123.
55 Churchill to Eden and Cadogan, 30 October 1942, PREM 3/437/3, TNA.
56 Metzger, Le Maghreb dans la Guerre, 150.
57 Roskill, Period of Balance, 313, 320.

Reactions to Operation Torch 187
forces and L’Armée d’Afrique, under the command of General Robert

Boissau at Oran.58 American troops landing in Morocco also encountered
strong opposition. The operation would encounter further resistance in
the months that followed, as American troops pushed eastwards in an
effort to capture Tunisia.59 Eisenhower’s deputy commander, General
Mark Clark, who Cunningham described as having a ‘rather predatory-
looking nose’, had landed west of Algiers just prior to the attacks.60 His
remit was to contact and win over the French military authorities.61 Eisen-
hower believed that the operation’s success hinged on it being able to
establish a working relationship with French leaders in North Africa. He
saw military occupation of French North Africa as too costly in terms of
men and materials.62 These views would significantly impact the choices
that the Allies made throughout and after the operations.
The Allies’ initial aim was to install General Henri Giraud as the
region’s new leader in the wake of the operation. Giraud had been
picked up by the British submarine Sibyl from a beach near Toulon on
the night of 6 November. He had sterling resistance credentials, having
escaped from a German prisoner of war camp earlier that April. At the
same time, his personal loyalty to Vichy leader Marshal Philippe Pétain
made him an obvious candidate to take up leadership in Algiers.63
However, increasing resistance against American troops, coupled with
the fact that the ‘King Pin’ was both unrecognised and quite unpop-
ular, placed this plan in jeopardy. Further complicating matters, the
Allies had not planned on Admiral Darlan being in North Africa during
the invasions. Darlan had travelled to Algiers to be with his ailing son
and quickly became involved in negotiations to stem fighting. He also
fanned Allied hopes that he could persuade the fleet and Dakar to join
their side. Eisenhower, echoing the sentiments of other military reports
at the time, argued that the mentality in North Africa was completely
different from what he had anticipated. ‘Any proposal was acceptable
only if “the Marshall would wish it”’.64 Giraud was so unpopular that
58 Dwight D. Eisenhower, Crusade in Europe (New York: Doubleday and Company, Inc.,
1952), 103. Metzger, Le Maghreb dans la Guerre, 163.
59 Governor General of Tunisia, Jean-Pierre Estava was strongly in favour of the Pétain
government. German troops would eventually occupy Tunisia between November
and May 1943. For a history of this occupation, see Metzger, Le Maghreb dans la
Guerre, Part 3, Chapter 2.
60 Cunningham, Sailor’s Odyssey, 477.
61 Roskill, Period of Balance, 322.
62 Eisenhower, Crusade in Europe, 110.
63 Julian Jackson, France the Dark Years, 1940–1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2001), 222.
64 Ibid., 105.

Eisenhower went as far as to advise that publication of his name in

North Africa should be avoided.65
Eisenhower’s belief that only Darlan who had the authority to issue
orders in the name of Pétain was criticised by the British and, to a lesser
extent, the American media. Darlan’s involvement with the Allies also
divided opinion within the French metropole and increased Anglo-Gaullist
tensions. Critics argued that ‘collaboration’ with Darlan was not in keep-
ing with the type of moral war that the Allies claimed to be fighting. De
Gaulle took full advantage of his exclusion from the operations to place
himself on the moral high ground and garner support and sympathy from
the broader public. Responses to the landings released through the Comité
national français (French National Committee [CNF]), which had replaced
the Empire Defence Council in September 1941, were scathing and clearly
distinguished between Gaullist policies and Allied actions. In Britain, public
reactions to the operations formed in response to three operational develop-
ments. These included: (1) initial reactions to the invasions, (2) responses
to the 13 November agreement making Darlan head of the civil government
and Giraud head of armed forces and (3) reactions to the 22 November
Clark–Darlan agreement. This final agreement put an end to French resis-
tance and made Darlan High Commissioner of French North Africa.
The landings set in motion a flurry of planned media activity. Radio
addresses by Roosevelt and Eisenhower were broadcast, British assur-
ances of full support and backing were issued and RAF planes dropped
millions of leaflets over metropolitan France. Vichy issued its own
statements, calling on its citizens not to be deceived by foreign radio
addresses. Here too, the historic Franco-American relationship did not
go unnoticed. Vichy communications reminded listeners that the source
of the attacks was, shockingly, a nation for which France had once shed
its own blood.66 Despite Allied attempts to depict the operation as an
American one, the Vichy press identified the ‘agression’ as being perpe-
trated by both American and British forces. Vichy also published a ‘Chro-
nique des agressions britanniques contre la France’, which made sense
of the attacks by describing them as one more instance in a long chain of
British aggressions. The publication listed forty-one separate examples
of British violations against French property and persons between 18
June 1940 and the Torch operations.67 Pétain’s official response (written
65 Eisenhower to Combined Chiefs of Staff, 14 November 1942, FO 371/32138, TNA.

66 ‘Communiqué du Gouvernement Français’, 8 November 1942, 9GMII/273,
Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (henceforth MAE). ‘Un appel du gouvernement à
la discipline et à l’union’, Le Temps, 9 November 1942, 1.
67 ‘Chronique des agressions britanniques contre la France, de 1940a 1942’, 19
November 1942, 10/GMII/333, MAE.

by Laval) to Roosevelt’s personal message was printed throughout the

press. It focussed, as always, upon claiming that Frenchmen had a sol-
emn duty to defend the empire against all attackers.68 Vichy’s rhetoric
remained consistent with its earlier responses to British territorial incur-
sions. It drew upon themes of duty and honour based upon the binding
legalistic nature of the armistice and the heroic if weary figure of Pétain.
Themes of obedience and honour in duty were mainstays of Vichy
rhetoric. They were inspired by traditional cultures of loyalty, particularly
within the armed services. And they recalled Pétain’s 1940 argument that
only a metropolitan government could be considered a legitimate repre-
sentative of French interests. Le Temps reported that progress was being
made to end fighting in North Africa. But its headlines focused upon the
valour of soldiers who were doing their duty: ‘obéissant a l’ordre du chef
de l’état nos soldats et nos marins font vaillamment leur devoir’.69 This
kind of rhetoric emphasised the necessity of strong leadership and the
importance of trusting and following orders. Another article described
the tragic nature of the invasions while justifying Pétain’s response as
in keeping with the ‘obligations’ imposed upon France by the armistice.
Protecting the empire was an essential part of these obligations.70 Now
publishing in the midst of the Allied invasion, the local North African
press urged civilians to remain calm and imparted news of negotiations
for an armistice.71 Throughout the operations, L’Echo d’Alger remained
sympathetic to events on the ground and supportive of the new Darlan
administration.
On 11 November, German troops occupied the Southern Zone of
metropolitan France. On 27 November, they attempted to seize French
ships at Toulon. Their plans were frustrated by Vichy forces, who scut-
tled the ships. From this point forward, news in metropolitan France was
divided between reports of Anglo-American operations in North Africa
and Pétain’s protests against German violations of the Armistice. Even at
this juncture, however, Pétain’s communiqués presented German moves
as strategic and defensible, rather than an incursion upon French sover-
eignty.72 He was still trying desperately to protect the legitimacy of the
68 ‘Les Américains et les Anglais attaquent notre Afrique du Nord’, Le Temps, 9

November 1942, 1.
69 ‘L’attaque Américaine et Anglaise contre notre Afrique du Nord: Obéissant à l’ordre
du chef de l’état nos soldats et nos marins font vaillamment leur devoir’, Le Temps, 9
November 1942, 1.
70 ‘Les heures tragiques’, Le Temps, 9 November 1942, 1.
71 ‘Des conversations en vue de la signature d’une convention d’armistice sont en cours’,
L’Echo d’Alger, 10 November 1942, 1.
72 ‘Les troupes Allemandes traversent la zone libre pour aller occuper des positions de
défense sur la côte méditerranéenne’, Le Temps, 12 November 1942, 1.

Vichy government. The French metropolitan press was also becoming

increasingly difficult to maintain. Even in the days immediately follow-
ing Torch, communiqués with information from the operations were two
days behind. Le Temps discontinued publication from 30 November.
In Britain, initial press responses were unsurprisingly positive. They
emphasised the American character of the landings. The lack of resistance
from Vichy forces (at least in Algiers) was used as proof that French ele-
ments ‘had no desire to oppose the entry of American troops into this ter-
ritory’.73 Home Intelligence Reports covering 4–10 November described
the growing jubilation surrounding events in North Africa. Criticism on
almost all matters had declined, and this period was viewed as ‘the best
week of the war’. Spirits were rising ‘to fresh heights over the Anglo-
American landings in French North Africa’. Morale was at its highest
level ‘since the war began’.74 The same report cited the overwhelming
belief that resisting French forces should not be given leniency.75 This atti-
tude was consistent with previous operations against Vichy French forces.
Public sentiment in Britain remained highly critical of Vichy and of the
French metropole more broadly. These attitudes were linked to notions
of betrayal and collaboration. Following the total German occupation
of France, Home Intelligence indicated little sympathy for the French
plight. Four reports cited blatant mistrust or dislike of these former allies,
‘particularly amongst men who served in the last war’.76 In addition to
downplaying the amount of resistance met by Anglo-American forces, the
British press gave a great deal of recognition to General Giraud. He was
described as ‘a gallant and skilful military leader’.77 Even though uncer-
tainty persisted around Darlan’s whereabouts and position, the press
hailed Giraud’s assumption of the ‘leadership of the French movement to
prevent Axis aggression in North Africa’.78
Resistance at the Algiers harbour ended by 7 p.m. on 8 November.79
And only three days after the initial invasion, reports that Darlan had
issued a ceasefire and begun negotiations were arriving at Whitehall
courtesy of the SOE unit stationed at Gibraltar.80 The press initially
73 ‘Rapid U.S. Advance in North Africa’, The Times, 9 November 1942, 4.; ‘Americans
Advancing Rapidly’, The Guardian, 9 November 1942, 5.
74 Home Intelligence Weekly Report, 12 November 1942, INF 1/292, TNA.
75 Ibid.
77 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Allies Speak to France’, The Times, 9 November 1942, 4.
78 ‘U.S. Request for Passage through Tunisia’, The Guardian, 10 November 1942, 5.
‘Stop Press News: General Giraud’, The Guardian, 10 November 1942, 6.
80 ‘Torch and the S.O.E. Signals Stations at Gibraltar’, 11 November 1942, HS 7/68,
TNA. Communiqué Vichy, 11 November 1942, 9GMII/273, MAE.

remained in the dark over Darlan’s current and developing position.81

But British policy-makers were, from the beginning, uneasy about work-
ing with him. Writing to W. H. B. Mack, British Civil Liaison Office to
Eisenhower, Cadogan warned that working with Darlan was dangerous.
‘If Darlan would give us [the] fleet and Tunisia, I should be very grate-
ful – and then throw him down a deep well’.82 Aneurin Bevan, a vocal
critic of the wartime Coalition government and future founder of the
NHS, also warned against collaborating with Darlan. In his view, doing
so risked losing ‘our good friends like de Gaulle, who was no longer an
individual but a symbol’.83 Churchill allegedly shared these views.
Even worse, Darlan failed to deliver on his promises.84 His 11 Novem-
ber message to Admiral Jean de Laborde, commander of the French fleet
at Toulon, failed to convince him to join the Allies.85 On 16 November,
The Times reported that Darlan had been made head of the civil govern-
ment, a status that was undoubtedly ‘only temporary …’86 The Times
maintained a relatively neutral stance towards Darlan’s position until
mid-December, but public sentiment was uneasy from the beginning.87
Left of centre publications like The Guardian were less willing to refrain
from criticism. Even so, they often shunted blame onto American policy-
makers writing, ‘this country has had virtually no part in the political
arrangements made by Allied headquarters’.88 Washington Ambassador
Lord Halifax received instructions on 13 November to make it clear to
Roosevelt or Secretary of State Cordell Hull that unless Darlan was able
to deliver the French Navy, his inclusion in the North African adminis-
tration would be highly unpopular.89 Eden, who remained solidly against
working with Darlan, gave a second statement to Halifax on 17 Novem-
ber, which stated, ‘We are fighting for international decency, and Darlan
is the antithesis of this’.90 Under Eden, the Foreign Office continued to
insist that ‘justification of such policy is almost impossible’.91 Although
81 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Puzzle of Darlan’s Attitude: What Is Happening at

Toulon?’ The Guardian, 13 November 1942, 5.
83 ‘Typescript reports to the Prime Minister’, 13 November 1942, HARV 2/1, Churchill
Archive Centre (henceforth CCAC).
84 Woodward, Foreign Policy, 212.
86 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘France under the Heel’, The Times, 16 November 1942,
4.
87 Kersaudy, Churchill and De Gaulle, 232.
88 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘De Gaulle and Darlan: A “Disclaimer” No Parley with
Vichy Regime’, The Guardian, 17 November 1942, 5.
89 Eden to Halifax, 13 November 1942, FO 371/32138, TNA.
90 Woodward, Foreign Policy, 215.
91 Eden to Halifax, 17 November 1942, FO 371/32138, TNA.

there were military benefits to working with Darlan, his reputation as a

collaborator made it less than desirable to associate him with the Allied
war cause. Early recognitions of the public backlash that would greet
Allied cooperation with Darlan confirmed the role that popular opinion
played in the political sphere. It also showcased the strength of morally
grounded wartime narratives.
Public disgust over the decision to work with Darlan translated into sym-
pathy for de Gaulle and the CNF. Press analyses conducted by the CNF’s
Commissariat de Information (Information Office) revealed growing support
in the British press for de Gaulle’s movement and universal disgust over
the ‘disturbing’ events unfolding.92 The leading article of the press organ
of the Fighting French unreservedly criticised Darlan and was reprinted
by The Guardian. It drew upon familiar themes, repudiating Darlan ‘in the
name of morality, of patriotism, of democracy and of just laws’.93 Home
Intelligence again highlighted a growing sense of moral injustice, which
focussed very specifically on Darlan’s privileged position under the arrange-
ments made in Algiers. Darlan’s much-publicised indiscretions made him
untrustworthy. One respondent asserted, ‘General Eisenhower had better
not trust Darlan further than he can throw a piano’.94
Linked to this distrust was the feeling that de Gaulle was being treated
unfairly. The British press praised de Gaulle’s 8 November BBC broad-
cast, which implored those in French North Africa to rise up and fight
against their oppressors for ‘la salut de la Patrie’.95 A week later, in a
meeting on 16 November, de Gaulle pleaded with Churchill to recon-
sider Darlan’s position. He expressed his surprise that the British would
allow themselves to be led by the Americans in such an endeavour and
urged Churchill to ‘take over the moral direction of this war’.96 De
Gaulle’s arguments highlighted the existence of two competing moti-
vations governing the direction of Torch. Allied leaders wanted to end
fighting on the ground. To this end, they would use whatever resources
were available, including the assistance of Darlan. On the other hand,
decision-makers recognised that public opinion in the metropole was
hostile to the idea of working with ‘collaborators’. Opinion at home also
played an important role in measuring the success of the operation. De
Gaulle was able to take advantage of public criticism to enhance his own
and the authority of the CNF. After Torch, de Gaulle used rhetoric as a
92 Télégramme, CNF, Presse Britannique, 21 November 1942, 18GMII/135, MAE.

93 ‘Aim to Avoid Bloodshed’, The Guardian, 18 November 1942, 5.
94 Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 19 November 1942, INF 1/292, TNA.
95 De Gaulle BBC, 8 November 1942, 18GMII/129, MAE.
96 Kersaudy, Churchill and De Gaulle, 226.

power building tool to situate his movement on the moral high ground.
He stressed that should Churchill choose to publicly take steps to move
away from Darlan, all of world public opinion would stand behind him.97
In the French metropole, the press continued to clarify the conse-
quences of ‘l’agression anglo-américaine’.98 By 16 November, the
French press was reporting that Darlan was contravening Pétain’s
repeated orders to resist the invasion. Darlan was criticised for claim-
ing to act in the name of the French head of state.99 Le Temps published
Pétain’s 14 November message to Darlan, which ordered him to defend
North Africa against ‘l’agression américaine’ and not to act against Axis
forces.100 Giraud was also accused of betraying Pétain.101 This portrayal
was in sharp contrast to the Algiers press, which was now writing from
a pro-Allied perspective. On 17 November, L’Echo d’Alger published a
large photo of Giraud under the caption, ‘Un Grand Soldat’.102 While
the North African press moved towards the Allied camp, in the metro-
pole, Pétain had just ceded his administrative powers to Laval. Under
Act 12, Laval was now able to enact laws under his own signature.
Meanwhile, difficult questions over the present deal with Darlan
began to emerge with more insistence, particularly in British diplomatic
circles. Minutes submitted by Foreign Office Official and head of the
Reconstruction Department Gladwyn Jebb argued that while military
expediency may lend credibility to the agreements, the moral aspect of
the decision, ‘perhaps in the long run is even more important’.103 One
historian has argued that the agreements with Darlan left Allied clan-
destine groups SOE and OSS facing a ‘moral hazard’. The agreements
jeopardised their validity in the eyes of other European resistance move-
ments.104 De Gaulle also warned Eden that the effects of the agreements
had been disastrous amongst the population of the whole of metropolitan
France.105 It was impossible to isolate cooperation with Darlan from the
well-established and essentially moral narratives of the Allied war effort.
97 ‘Procès-Verbal de l’Entretien du General de Gaulle avec le Premier Ministre’, 16

November 1942, 3AG 1/257, Archives Nationales (henceforth AN).
98 ‘Les conséquences de l’agression Anglo-Américaine’, Le Temps, 14–15 November
1942, 1.
99 ‘Les déclarations mensongères de l’amiral Darlan’, Le Temps, 22 November 1942, 1.
100 ‘Un télégramme du Maréchal à l’amiral Darlan et un ordre à l’armée d’Afrique’, Le
Temps, 16 November 1942, 1. ‘L’amiral Darlan a pris des initiatives contraires aux
instructions du Maréchal’, Le Temps, 16 November 1942, 1.
101 ‘La félonie du General Giraud’, Le Temps, 17 November 1942, 1.
102 ‘Un grand soldat, le général Giraud commandant en chef les forces terrestres et
aériennes de l’Afrique française’, L’Echo d’Alger, 17 November 1942, 1.
103 Minutes, Gladwyn Jebb, 16 November 1942, FO 371/32139, TNA.
104 Wales, ‘“Massingham” Mission’, 53.
105 Eden to Peake, 19 November 1942, FO 371/31951, TNA.

The Torch operations highlighted the tensions between military expe-

diency and moral compromise. Policy-makers in Britain and the United
States had to justify the decision to work with Darlan while also acknowl-
edging that the agreements were far from ideal. At the same time, events
on the ground left little room for manoeuvre both as a matter of military
expediency and American preference. Churchill faced criticism over the
deal, even though the local press continued to portray it as an American
initiative. Writing to Roosevelt on 17 November, Churchill argued that
any deal with Darlan must ‘only be a temporary expedient justifiable
solely by the stress of battle’.106 Roosevelt’s response was to issue a press
release essentially copying this line. He argued that working with Dar-
lan saved time and casualties by avoiding a ‘mopping up period’.107 The
Times responded favourably to Roosevelt’s statement, emphasising the
agreement’s temporary and local nature and tangible military benefits.
The rapid ceasefire avoided further loss of life and gave the Allies addi-
tional time to prepare for an eastward advance into Tunisia.108 However,
criticism did not disappear completely.
After American Undersecretary of State, Sumner Welles, delivered
his own analysis of events, the British press responded by critiquing the
Darlan policy and shifting blame onto the Americans. One article criti-
cised Welles for making ‘no direct reference to the bewilderment and
disappointment expressed in Fighting French and some other quarters
over allied acceptance of the aid of Darlan …’109 The Guardian remained
scornful of Roosevelt’s assurances that the arrangement with Darlan
was temporary. Darlan was compared with nineteenth-century political
opportunist Joseph Fouché: ‘Fouché never did a quicker turn’.110 The
press was right to be sceptical. Darlan himself made it clear to Gen-
eral Clark that he interpreted Roosevelt’s use of the word ‘temporary’
as meaning ‘until the liberation of France is complete’.111 Herein lay the
difficulty of attempting to placate public sentiment while simultaneously
focussing on military strategy. South African Field-Marshal Jan Smuts
acknowledged this problem in a letter to Churchill sent from Gibraltar
on 22 November. He reported that the present military situation might
106 Churchill to Roosevelt, C-193, 17 November 1942, Warren F. Kimball, ed., Churchill
and Roosevelt the Complete Correspondence, vol. 2, Alliance Forged (Princeton: Princeton
107 Roosevelt to Churchill, R-214, 17 November 1942, Kimball, Alliance Forged, 8.
108 Our Correspondent, ‘Local Status of Darlan’, The Times, 18 November 1942, 4.
109 Our Correspondent, ‘Mr. Welles on the Final Conquest’, The Times, 19 November
1942, 3.
110 ‘The Darlan Mystery’, The Guardian, 18 November 1942, 4.
111 Minutes, W. Strang citing 21 November letter from Darlan to Clark, 26 November
1942, FO 371/32145, TNA.

call for Darlan’s retention for a ‘fairly long period’ and warned that any
‘impression[s] to the contrary should not be publicly created’.112
In Churchill’s private communications with Roosevelt, he repeatedly
emphasised the need to alleviate criticisms that painted Allied actions
as immoral. On the Allied side, the conflict with Germany had always
been described as a noble struggle against tyranny and darkness. Allow-
ing Darlan into the Allied camp was a sharp departure from this stance
and risked jeopardising Churchill’s credibility. Churchill entreated with
Roosevelt, ‘A permanent arrangement with Darlan or the formation
of a Darlan government in French North Africa would not be under-
stood by the great masses of ordinary people whose simply loyalties are
our strength’.113 Churchill consistently portrayed the British and Allied
struggle using a straightforward framework of good versus evil. Depict-
ing the war in this way, however, created quite complex expectations in
regard to how it should be fought. These expectations were frequently
expressed using language that was deeply emotive and moral. At the
same time that the Darlan affair was developing, a series of related events
clarified why Darlan would never be accepted as a legitimate ally.
Alongside reports of Darlan’s rising star in North Africa, the British
press was printing images of the commander of the British Eighth Army,
General Bernard Montgomery, entertaining German General Wilhelm
von Thoma. Von Thoma, who was responsible for the 1937 Guernica
massacre, had been captured outside of El Alamein on 4 November.
Home Intelligence Reports concluded that the British public was dis-
gusted by what appeared to be a friendly relationship. Montgomery was
treating von Thoma ‘as if he were the captain of an opposing cricket
team’, rather than an enemy combatant. There was a strong sense that
it was not only desirable but also right to ‘punish’ those who had broken
the moral code. This idea of acceptable retribution was also evident in
repeated calls for Britain to launch a series of punitive bombing raids
on Italy. ‘The Italians supported Mussolini, just as the Germans sup-
ported Hitler, and the only thing to do with them is to hit them hard
and tell them there is more to come’.114 Criticisms of the von Thoma
affair and calls for a harsher Italian policy were consistent with previ-
ous reactions to Franco-British clashes and to the ongoing Darlan affair.
They reflected a moral code that made war a deeply personal endeav-
our, in which punishment and retribution were expected and necessary.
In 1940, the British public had celebrated the bombardments at Mers
112 Smuts to Churchill, 22 November 1942, PREM 3/442/9, TNA.

113 Kimball, Alliance Forged, 7.

el-Kébir as a necessary step towards a just victory. At Dakar and in the

French Levant, it had demanded that Allied forces pound Vichy troops
into submission. And in 1942, it refused to accept that military expedi-
ency justified collaborating with Darlan. At the heart of these refusals
were images of immorality and a deep sense of unfairness.
By late November, public opinion around the Darlan affair had only
hardened. Commentary by presenter Ed Murrow from London, although
broadcast for American listeners, received sympathetic press coverage in
British papers. Murrow reported that although the British press and radio
were following government instructions to emphasise the military nature
of the agreements, public opinion disparaged the move. He quoted one
man as saying, ‘We shouldn’t have done it. We shouldn’t have done it not
even if he brought his tupenny navy with him’.115 Murrow also charac-
terised the agreements as ‘a matter of high principle in which we carry a
great moral burden which we cannot escape’.116 Such criticisms empha-
sised deeply ingrained cultural ideals such as fair play. They drew on ethi-
cal standards that allowed for punishment, and causalities as long as they
stayed within the perceived confines of a ‘moral’ war. De Gaulle’s popu-
larity also continued to rise, not as a result of his military accomplish-
ments, but because of his apparent moral credibility. On 16 November,
he published a communiqué, stating that the CNF was not currently and
would not in future play any part in negotiations underway.117
Churchill wrote, in his extensive review of the war years, an account
that almost seemed to exonerate Darlan. He argued that the agreement
concluded by Clark and Eisenhower displayed ‘a high level of courage
and good sense’.118 But he also acknowledged that the decisions taken had
raised many ‘issues of a moral and sentimental character’.119 Churchill
was in a difficult situation throughout the operations. He was attempt-
ing to maintain good relations between the Americans, the Free French
and his own constituents. Increasing pressure from both the mass media
and political quarters like the Foreign Office had made it difficult to take
a clear line on the nature of the agreements. The press was dominated
by discussion over Darlan, which even eclipsed the publication of the
Beveridge Report on 1 December.120 De Gaulle continued to profit from
115 Commentary by Ed Murrow from London, C.B.S. Network in English for U.S.A.,
25 November 1942, FO 371/32155, TNA.
116 Ibid.
117 Communiqué du Comité National Français, 16 November 1942, 18GMII/129,
MAE. Foreign Office to Halifax, 16 November 1942, FO 371/31951, TNA.
118 Churchill, Hinge of Fate, 565.
119 Ibid.
120 Bell, ‘British Public Opinion’, 76.

British Parliamentary Opposition & the End of the Darlan Affair 197
extended press criticism. He expressed pleasure at the critical and moral

stance being taken by the London press in an internal communication.121
Roosevelt’s ‘temporary expedient’ announcement may have briefly
alleviated press criticism. However, when events continued to evolve in
favour of Darlan, particularly after the conclusion of the Clark–Darlan
agreement, criticism once again dominated the British press throughout
December. Roosevelt’s statement also opened a gap between British and
American public opinion, with the latter more willing to acquiesce in
the current state of affairs. Alongside this development, there was rising
criticism from within the British Parliamentary sphere. Despite this, offi-
cial British rhetoric tried to avoid taking a strong stance, perhaps because
it knew any promises to unseat Darlan could not be kept. British policy-
makers were constrained by events on the ground and saw no alternative
but to continue working with Darlan.
British Parliamentary Opposition and the End

of the Darlan Affair
Although fighting in Algiers had been neutralised quickly, determined
German resistance and the arrival of Wehrmacht reinforcements in Tuni-
sia meant that fighting was far from over. But the Tunisian campaigns
remained overshadowed by sustained press coverage and public inter-
est in the Darlan affair through late November and into December. The
British press used de Gaulle’s statements to condemn the Darlan regime
as unconstitutional and his actions as treasonous. One late November
publication argued that Darlan’s position as an officer made his actions
even more insidious than Laval’s.122 Home Intelligence Reports sum-
marised the general sentiment in Britain: ‘… it is doubted whether “even
the expediency of military necessity” can have justified this stratagem’.123
The three most frequent reactions to the affair included increased sympa-
thy for de Gaulle, a tendency to place responsibility on the Americans and
questions about what the future held.124 Even in areas such as Portsmouth
where the Gaullist movement was very unpopular, ‘the English love of
fair play makes people consider they have been very shabbily treated’.125
Despite a significant amount of pressure, Churchill had so far refused
to make detailed explanations in the Commons and would only do so
121 ‘Communication à tout les postes, presse’, 25 November 1942, 18GMII/135, MAE.
122 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘General Attacks Darlan: de Gaulle’s Position’, The
Guardian, 26 November 1942, 6.
123 Home Intelligence Weekly Report, 3 December 1942, INF 1/292, TNA.
124 Ibid.
125 Home Intelligence Weekly Report, 10 December 1942, INF 1/292, TNA.

in a secret session on 10 December. The content of this statement was

not available for public consumption. In late November, MPs tabled
a motion criticising British association with Darlan as being contrary
to the ideals of the war.126 Lord Vansittart also submitted a paper for
debate in the House of Lords. He hoped to address fears that the instal-
lation of Darlan as High Commissioner indicated a trend towards using
other ‘Quislings’ in the administration. The War Cabinet requested that
Vansittart refrain from his questions, particularly in open session.127
Although Churchill later wrote that his secret session address had com-
pletely removed parliamentary opposition and had quenched ‘the hostile
Press and reassured the country’, Home Intelligence Reports indicated
otherwise.128
The German occupation of the Southern zone of metropolitan
France made it impossible to maintain the fiction that Vichy was either
sovereign or independent. Still, Vichy rhetoric continued to argue to
this effect. In a radio address that was reprinted extensively in the press,
Laval criticised the American policy of aggression towards the French
state and insisted that an agreement with Germany was the only way to
uphold peace in Europe.129 Laval attempted to absolve the German vio-
lation of the armistice and occupation of the Southern zone. He argued
that Anglo-American forces were to blame because they had infringed
upon French sovereignty in North Africa and threatened German secu-
rity. Laval’s argument that North Africa was a natural extension of the
metropole was useful in depicting the operations as an unprovoked act
of war against the body of France.130 Imagery of Pétain, who remained
the titular head of state after ceding leadership to Laval, was crucial
in these depictions of the largely imaginary French state. In its final
days, Le Temps printed and quoted from a number of telegrams that
expressed loyalty to Pétain and, thus, the French nation he represented.
The hero of Verdun embodied the fictional existence of the state.131
Articles such as this became a regular feature in the last days of Novem-
ber. References to French sovereignty as a justification and means to
condemn Allied actions had, since June 1940, been crucial to Vichy’s
claims to represent the legitimate French state. Following the German
126 ‘Anti-Darlan Motion: Undermining Faith’, The Guardian, 26 November 1942,

5. ‘Admiral Darlan’s Position: MPs Press for an Early Debate’, The Guardian, 27
November 1942, 8.
127 Conclusions of Meeting of the War Cabinet, 21 November 1942, PREM 3/442/10,
TNA.
128 Home Intelligence Weekly Reports, 17 December 1942, INF 1/292, TNA.
129 ‘La France devant l’agression Anglo-Américaine’, Le Temps, 23 November 1942, 1.
130 Ibid.
131 ‘Les messages de fidélité au chef de l’état’, Le Temps, 25 November 1942, 1.

British Parliamentary Opposition & the End of the Darlan Affair 199
occupation, official statements and press reports attempted to main-

tain such arguments, but with an increasing gap between rhetoric and
reality.
In the days leading up to Darlan’s assassination on 24 December, it
became increasingly apparent that the public response in Britain was
influenced not only by a deep sense of right and wrong but also by
deeper personal experiences of involvement in the conflict. These atti-
tudes were particularly evident in the contrasting messages presented by
the press in Britain and the United States. Commissariat de Information
press analyses noted that although the American press described the
decision to work with Darlan as only a temporary military necessity,
British media sources continued to emphasise its moral and sentimen-
tal aspects.132 Although Darlan featured prominently in the American
press, broadcasters largely justified the decision as a military one, ignor-
ing political repercussions.133 An article in The Guardian pointed out
that while in Britain there are ‘no defenders of the past role of the Admi-
ral … except a few cranks and a few sophists’, there were plenty to be
found in America.134 The same article criticised press censorship for
suppressing the extent of Anglo-American disagreement on the mat-
ter. Additional analyses carried out by the Foreign Office confirmed
that American opinion regarding Darlan had remained consistent
throughout, ‘justifying the Allied policy of temporary recognition’.135
When examining British opinion, however, reports emphasised that few
trusted Darlan. He was labelled a traitor. Moreover, many assumed
that he would turn against the Allies again if it suited him.136 These
divergent responses were also mirrored in the strength of the political
reactions within Britain, most notably in the Foreign Office and Parlia-
ment. Churchill’s reluctance to debate the Darlan affair in open session
meant that there was a great deal of uncertainty regarding the details
of the agreement, and more importantly, its duration. We know that
even in mid-November, the length of Darlan’s tenure was uncertain
and was likely to be longer than the words ‘temporary expedient’ sug-
gested. The British media, which de Gaulle believed reflected broader
132 Télégramme, CNF de Commissariat Information, Presse, 21 November 1942,

18GMII/135, MAE.
133 American Division Ministry of Information, ‘U.S. Press Commentary on Darlan’,
17 November 1942, FO 371/32155, TNA.
134 D. W. Brogan, ‘Anglo-American Relations: The Censorship and Darlan’, The
Guardian, 4 December 1942, 4.
135 American Division Ministry of Information, 29 November 1942, FO 371/32143,
TNA. Halifax to Foreign Office, 16 November 1942, FO 371/32139, TNA.

public opinion, continued to demand clarification on the Darlan affair

throughout December.137 Darlan’s position, and move to convene an
Imperial Council, caused further scepticism within the British press. He
appeared to be consolidating his political position rather than serving
purely to facilitate military operations.138
Churchill’s 10 December Commons address in secret session was dif-
ficult to square with strident criticism from the Foreign Office, MOI,
Parliamentary and press reports. His earlier assurances to de Gaulle that
‘you have been with us during the war’s worst moments. We shall not
abandon you now that the horizon shows signs of brightening’ appeared
to have been abandoned for this address.139 Churchill subtly shifted
blame onto the Americans by emphasising that they were in control in
North Africa, militarily and politically. He also stepped back from de
Gaulle. Churchill employed the principle of droit administratif (Adminis-
trative Law), arguing that in French culture, obedience to authority was
considered supreme. In this context, de Gaulle’s actions and his person
were understandably distasteful to those who had remained ‘loyal’ fol-
lowing the collapse.140 However, he went even further. Churchill claimed
that while no promises had been made to Darlan, equally, de Gaulle did
not ‘have a monopoly on the future of France’.141 Churchill used the
same argument that Vichy employed, namely, obedience to authority,
in order to explain the current situation. Likewise, he pointed to earlier
disagreements with de Gaulle in Syria in order to muddy the ethical line
between him and Darlan. By pointing out that neither party had clean
hands, Churchill hoped to place the Darlan affair into a broader and
more complex context, in which neither leader was clearly ideal.
Darlan’s assassination brought an abrupt end to speculation surround-
ing his tenure as High Commissioner. However, lingering public distaste
for the deal illustrated the strength of opinion that it had engendered.
Ideas of moral behaviour resurfaced in the public response. Home Intel-
ligence Reports recorded general relief at the news of Darlan’s death,
coupled with the surfacing of much discussion over assassination as a
means to eliminate someone. ‘People “feel they ought not to approve
137 Télégramme, du Commissariat Information, Presse Britannique, 12 December

1942, 18GMII/135, MAE.
138 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Darlan’s Move: Digging Himself in’, The Guardian, 3
December 1942, 5.
139 Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs of Charles de Gaulle, vol. 2, Unity
1942–1944, trans. Richard Howard (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1955), 350.
140 Churchill, Hinge of Fate, 573.
141 Secret Session Statement on North Africa, 10 December 1942, PREM 3/442/12,
TNA.

Conclusion 201
of assassinations”, but the majority are inclined to make an exception in

this case’.142 The Guardian wrote, ‘The assassination of Admiral Darlan
opens a way out of one of the worst tangles of the war’.143 The British
press continued to criticise American policy in France over the Darlan
affair into 1943. This issue was raised in a War Cabinet distribution,
which noted that these kinds of public critiques could damage Anglo-
American relations.144 The strength of opinion surrounding Darlan
remained so consistent that Churchill confided to Eden that he believed
the military victory itself had been ‘tarnished and tainted’.145 He went
on to add, ‘There is a deep loathing in this country, particularly strong
amongst the working classes, against what are thought to be intrigues
with Darlan and Vichy which are held to be contrary to the broad and
simple loyalties which united the masses throughout the world against
the common foe’.146 Darlan’s death may have eliminated the controversy
surrounding the duration of his rule. However, it did not eliminate the
bitter taste of the willingness of Allied forces to work with someone who
had been repeatedly discredited by past official rhetoric. That the issue
resurfaced in relation to the moral conduct of the war illustrated that
material victory did not give policy-makers a carte blanche.
Conclusion
From the moment that planning for Torch commenced in earnest, the
Anglo-American JPS was trying to manage how the invasions would be
viewed by individuals and governments. Planners shared the belief that
Vichy forces were less likely to resist an American invasion. And they
agreed that Giraud would make an ideal and uncontroversial leader in
North Africa. These calculations were not entirely accurate. Neverthe-
less, the meticulous drafting and sequencing of press releases and com-
muniqués demonstrated the lengths to which the Allies were willing to
go in order to reassure all interested parties of their good intentions.
These communications suggested that the invasions were mounted in
order to forestall German occupation and begin the restoration of France
to its rightful place in the civilised world. Such depictions instilled the
operations with a great deal of early significance. Not only did American
143 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Chance to End Muddle: Allies Must Take Firm Line
Giraud’s Policy’, The Guardian, 27 December 1942, 1.
144 Halifax to Foreign Office, ‘War Cabinet Distribution’, 1 January 1943, PREM
3/442/14, TNA.
145 Churchill to Eden, 2 January 1943, PREM 3/442/14, TNA.
146 Ibid.

press releases deliberately represent the operations as satisfying Soviet

demands for a second front, but they also attempted to establish the
invasions as the major turning point in the war. This sense of certainty
was planted well before victory in North Africa and, more specifically, in
Tunisia, was assured.
Although early responses to the operations were understandably
enthusiastic on the Allied side (an enthusiasm at least partly attributable
to the disappointments of the previous months and years), the deals con-
cluded with Admiral Darlan led to mounting criticism in metropolitan
France and Britain. The American public reacted more favourably, an
indulgence also reflected in the greater willingness amongst American
media sources to consider arguments of military expediency. This per-
haps illustrated the vastly different wartime experiences of the two allied
partners rather than any deeper cleavage over a compromise deal with
the Algiers authorities. Darlan’s actions were considered morally repug-
nant and were typecast as the epitome of treason on the British and
Free French sides. But the American press and public had little personal
experience upon which to base such harsh judgements.
Striving to balance the requirements of the Grand Alliance with the
sterner views of domestic critics, the Churchill government chose to
keep its rhetoric low key. This was in marked contrast to the voluble
condemnation of the Darlan deal in the numerous Gaullist publica-
tions that emanated from Carlton Gardens in the wake of Torch. This
silence, in response to both press and parliamentary criticism, illustrated
the difficulty of the situation. Churchill’s Ministers and senior officials
were limited in what they could say by the overarching requirements of
the Anglo-American relationship. The reality of events on the ground,
including the expectation that Darlan would retain nominal power,
meant that after Roosevelt’s 17 November press release, few other argu-
ments could be advanced to exculpate British choices. That Churchill
opted not to expand on the event in a Commons debate in an open ses-
sion pointed to his acknowledgement of the strength of public opposition
to the arrangements made with Darlan. It also reflected his hopes that
time would dampen such criticisms.
Vichy also drew on well-worn ideas of violated honour in order to
criticise aggression against its sovereign imperial territory. This moral
outrage did not last. The German occupation of the Southern Zone in
late November 1942 placed both Pétain and Laval in an increasingly
invidious position. Still, they attempted to justify even this move as only
natural and indeed a defensive response to Allied ‘aggression’. The far-
cical nature of French sovereignty was increasingly projected onto the
figure and image of Pétain, with the publication of fealty to what he

Conclusion 203
represented as the patrie (fatherland). The coming years would see the
further disintegration of any meaningful Vichy sovereignty. Emphasis
would shift towards the damage done by a treacherous Anglo-Gaullist
alliance, which, it was claimed, had helped bring France to its knees.
The moral tone that underpinned criticisms surrounding Torch was
evident in the language that policy-makers were using behind closed
doors to warn of the dangers of collaborating with Darlan. It also satu-
rated the press and public responses across much of Britain. De Gaulle
capitalised on the ethical qualms expressed about the Darlan deal. His
office profited from the publication of strong statements that condemned
Darlan without reserve, something that no Ministry in the British gov-
ernment was able to do. That de Gaulle was largely powerless in this
situation made his rhetoric credible, not only as a promise of action but
also as a moral absolute. De Gaulle took an ethical stance that chimed
with public sentiment in Britain more broadly.
The sympathies of the British public, as the Foreign Office, MOI and
Commissariat de Information tracked them, were moulded by the belief
that de Gaulle had been treated unfairly. His loyalty had been trampled
on in favour of an inglorious, if expedient, marriage of convenience with
Darlan’s followers in Algiers and Rabat. What was notable about the crit-
icisms surrounding Darlan, whether they were propagated by the press
or voiced by figures such as Eden, Cadogan or Vansittart, was that they
all argued that a moral compromise of this calibre risked jeopardising –
and indeed overriding – the material gains of a military victory. From
June 1940, British rhetoric spanning official statements, Churchillian
speeches and press interpretations had described the ‘men of Vichy’ as
venal defeatists: the antithesis of the war effort. Rehabilitating a member
of this group into the Allied camp was virtually impossible from a moral
point of view. The operation itself could easily be described as a military
victory. The fact that its success was undermined by the Darlan agree-
ments showed that victories were not judged solely on the basis of mate-
rial outcomes. Military operations were still judged and discussed on an
ethical platform as much as a military one.

7 Independence on French Terms
The 1943 Lebanese Parliamentary Crisis
A pair of articles published in 2007 and 2010, respectively, argued that

Free French leader Charles de Gaulle precipitated crises in the Levant
as a means to demonstrate his own importance and signal disagreement
over broader Allied war strategy.1 It is a mistake to minimise the wider
significance of events in this region and the Middle East as a whole.
Doing so obscures the strategic and symbolic importance of The Medi-
terranean and Middle East in French and British foreign policy. This
area provided vital communication and shipping links as well as crucial
reserves of oil. By 1940, the bifurcated pipeline that terminated in Haifa
and Tripoli supplied enough oil to keep Britain’s entire Mediterranean
fleet in service.2 Egypt and the Suez Canal base zone were at the centre
of Britain’s Middle Eastern war effort, containing the largest concentra-
tion of military resources, administrative support and security staff out-
side the British Isles.3 However, the strategic value of this region is only
half of the story.
The ties that linked France to the Levant were long-standing, com-
plex, multi-dimensional, and deeply rooted in the language of historic
rights and cultural connections. French links with Christian minorities
had existed throughout the region since the first crusades between 1096
and 1099.4 French interests in the Eastern Mediterranean were gradu-
ally enshrined in cultural institutions such as mission schools, ostensi-
ble claims to protect the Christian minorities and trade links. By the
1 Meir Zamir, ‘De Gaulle and the Question of Syria and Lebanon during the Second
World War: Part I’, Middle Eastern Studies 43, no. 5 (2007): 675–708. Meir Zamir, ‘The
“Missing Dimension”: Britain’s Secret War Against France in Syria and Lebanon,
1942–1945: Part II’, Middle Eastern Studies 46, no. 6 (2010): 791–900.
2 James Barr, A Line in the Sand: Britain, France and the Struggle that Shaped the Middle
East (London: Simon and Schuster, 2011), 163.
3 For a comprehensive list of Middle East operative bases and missions, see Ashley
Jackson, The British Empire and the Second World War (London: Hambledon
Continuum, 2006), Chapter 7, esp. 109–116.
4 Bruce D. Marshall, The French Colonial Myth and Constitution-Making in the Fourth
Republic (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1973), 128.
204

Independence on French Terms 205
mid-twentieth century, France’s refusal to relinquish control or influ-

ence over the Levant was well established. Specialised interest groups,
including silk firms in Lyon, traders in Marseille and shareholders in
French infrastructure projects viewed the Levant primarily as a monetary
asset. The French armed forces represented another important vested
interest that saw access to Lebanese ports as vital to the preservation of
France’s Mediterranean power.5 As D. K. Fieldhouse, Aviel Roshwald,
C. M. Andrew and A. S. Kanya-Forstner have pointed out, Syria and
Lebanon’s importance to France was entangled with ideas of national
prestige, power and the French civilising mission.6 When war broke out
in 1939, France’s historic role in the Levant was already highly rigid.
Modifying the relationship would be extremely difficult. ‘With the lines
of rivalry and policy so long established, there was a sort of fatalism sur-
rounding both de Gaulle’s policies and their ultimate failure’.7
This chapter returns to the Levant two years after the 1941 Anglo-Free
French Exporter operations to examine the November 1943 parliamen-
tary crisis in French mandated Lebanon. American entry into the war in
late 1941, Soviet victories at Stalingrad and the Torch operations in 1942
had made Allied victory increasingly likely. However, the path to 1945
introduced new uncertainties over the future of empire, and particularly,
the future of Anglo-French power in the Middle East. We know that de
Gaulle had promised independence to Syria and Lebanon in July 1941 and
that proclamations to this effect were issued in September and November
of the same year. In practice, these pledges remained unfulfilled. The
Free French would not agree to grant Syrian and Lebanese indepen-
dence until they had concluded a treaty that would preserve France’s
historic interests in the two states. This treaty would grant France endur-
ing economic, strategic and cultural rights over its former mandates. The
1943 crisis was a product of anti-colonial nationalist resistance to Free
French demands. It was precipitated by Jean Helleu, Georges Catroux’s
replacement as Delegate General to the Levant. Helleu’s decision, that
November, to arrest the newly elected Lebanese Prime Minister, the
President and several members of the Beirut Cabinet threw Anglo-Free
French relations and the broader Arab world into turmoil. Anglo-Gaullist
5 D. K. Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism in the Middle East: 1914–1958 (Oxford: Oxford

6 Ibid., 252. Aviel Roshwald, Estranged Bedfellows: Britain and France in the Middle East
during the Second World War (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 222. C. M.
Andrew and A. S. Kanya-Forstner, France Overseas: The Great War and the Climax of
French Imperial Expansion (London: Thames and Hudson Ltd., 1981), 302.
7 Bruce D. Marshall, The French Colonial Myth and Constitution-Making in the Fourth
Republic (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1973),128.

clashes in the Levant in 1943 showcased the complexity of the relation-

ships that European powers held with the Levant states and the wider
Arab world. The latter was the centre of a vibrant, multifaceted public
sphere. Here, British and French actions were the subject of constant,
and often hostile scrutiny, whether in the press and other print media, in
national parliaments, or in the politics of the Arab street.
In 1943, the issue at stake was independence: what did it mean and
when would it be granted? How would the process of independence
negotiations affect the prestige and influence of Britain and France, in
the Levant and throughout the Arab world? Moreover, how could these
European nations frame their policies in a way that would make their
continued influence in the Middle East acceptable and even desirable?
Imperial conflict in the Levant was shaped by the question of indepen-
dence. The rhetoric around independence revealed contrasting British,
Free French and nationalist expectations concerning the role that empire
would play in the post-war world. Susan Pedersen’s distinction between
political and economic sovereignty is a useful framework through which
to understand what independence meant to different actors during the
period in question. She points to the emergence of a ‘new definition
of “independence”’ in the late 1920s. The great powers relinquished
claims of legal sovereignty but moved instead towards a form of eco-
nomic sovereignty.8 The precedent set in the Middle East by the Anglo-
Iraqi treaties of 1922 and 1930 and the Anglo-Egyptian treaties of 1922
and 1936 entrenched the assumption that nominal independence need
not preclude the mandate holder from retaining strategic and economic
rights. This approach combined the cession of sovereign rights with the
preservation of reserved rights for the mandate holder. It sought to pacify
nationalist demands while allowing the guiding state to continue to enjoy
an array of benefits, including military bases and access to oil resources.
From the French perspective, managing the transition from formal
to informal influence was vital for two reasons. First, the combination
of British military and fiscal superiority, French wartime failures and
American anti-imperial rhetoric made the Free French intensely suspi-
cious of Anglo-Saxon intentions and local nationalist unrest. When it
came to military strength, de Gaulle did not have the resources to maintain
unilateral control in the Levant. Second, the Levant, and particularly the
Maronite Christian community, held a great deal of intangible, cultural
value. It was equally esteemed by competing Gaullists and Giraudists
in the Comité Français de Libération Nationale (French Committee of
8 Susan Pedersen, The Guardians: The League of Nations and the Crisis of Empire (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2015), 260.

The History of Levantine Nationalism 207
National Liberation [CFLN]), the proto-government that was officially

formed in June 1943 and headquartered in Algiers.9 In practice, how-
ever, the mobilisation of culture as a political tool only weakened French
influence further. Between 1941 and 1945, de Gaulle’s policies com-
bined insecurity over France’s political position in its mandates with an
unbending belief in French cultural superiority.10 Compromise on this
basis became impossible.
Maintaining an empire, or in this case, supervising its demise, was made
all the more complicated because this web of strategic and cultural factors
was closely linked to national prestige at home and abroad. Understanding
why and how Anglo-Free French arguments over empire developed in the
way that they did means looking beyond military manoeuvres. No matter
how callous and underhanded British policies may have been, they were
still formulated with an eye towards maintaining local support and pres-
tige, in the Levant and the Middle East. Adverse local reactions substan-
tially limited Britain’s practical options. And at the same time as managing
crises in the French Levant, British policy-makers faced growing unrest in
its Palestinian mandate through 1943–1944. In an attempt to stave off the
question of independence in its own mandates, Britain sought to fashion
itself as an impartial and inherently benign arbiter. This supposedly neu-
tral position was a result of British policies to protect the Middle East from
Axis invasion without alienating public, and overwhelmingly nationalist,
opinion in the Arab world.11 The following two chapters will examine how
rhetoric, or a lack of it, was essential to this strategy. Competing defini-
tions of independence created a rhetorical minefield in which Britain and
the Free French were forced to legitimise their respective policies against
the backdrop of strengthening nationalist demands.
The History of Levantine Nationalism

and Franco-British Regional Rivalries
The longer history of Arab nationalism and Franco-British relations
in the Middle East impacted how French and British decision-makers
thought about their policy choices in 1943 and later, at the close of the
mandate period in 1945. The question of independence for modern day
Syria and Lebanon arose after the fall of the Ottoman Empire and before
9 The CFLN was formed when the CNF merged with Giraud’s Commandement en
Chef Français Civil et Militaire.
10 Jennifer M. Dueck, The Claims of Culture at Empire’s End: Syria and Lebanon under
French Rule (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 3.
11 Jackson, British Empire, 100.

the formalisation of the French mandate in the 1923 Treaty of Laus-

anne. Then, too, the French administration rapidly resorted to violence
in response to populist nationalism. But the idea of a historically coher-
ent and united nationalist movement against the French mandate should
not be overstated. Nationalism was itself a relatively new phenomenon in
the Arab world. It had gained popularity in the late nineteenth century in
response to European imperialism and the attendant emergence of secu-
lar republicanism in late Ottoman Turkey.12 Even then, Arab nationalist
movements were not as firmly secular as those of ‘modern’ European
nationalism and the potential boundaries of what could or would consti-
tute a particular nation state were as yet unclear. Lebanese nationalism
between 1900 and 1940 developed around a particular geographic area.
At the same time, another, broader form of Arab nationalism coalesced
around cultural and ethnic values.13 To complicate matters, the Arab
world was itself a heterogeneous mix of religious and tribal identities.14
Within this cacophony of voices, one of the fundamental points of dis-
agreement between Muslim and Christian notables in Lebanon was their
respective attitudes towards France.15 Geographically, Lebanon was also
comprised largely of intensely competitive tribal societies, a fact that
hardly engendered a common sense of nationhood.16
Lebanon’s administrative structure was a product of this complicated
society and its longer history of often-violent ethnic/cultural rivalries.
Following the Druze massacres of over 10,000 members of the Chris-
tian population in 1860, western pressure forced the Ottomans to create
the autonomous province, or sanjaq, of Mount Lebanon. However, the
roughly 2,600 mi2 of territory had neither port access nor arable land.
This made it reliant upon imported wheat and other food products.17
The extensive powers of the elected twelve-member Administrative
Council of Mount Lebanon and its membership divisions or system of
concessions between Maronite, Druze, Greek Orthodox, Greek Catho-
lic, Shia and Sunni religious populations had a lasting impact on political
thought and structures in Lebanon.

13 Albert Hourani, The Emergence of the Modern Middle East (London: The Macmillan
Press, Ltd., 1981), 186.
14 Albert Hourani gives estimates of the different religious and ethnic populations residing
in Syria and Lebanon based on census records from 1932 to 1943 in Albert Hourani,
Syria and Lebanon: A Political Essay (London: Oxford University Press, 1946), 121.
15 Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 309. See also Fieldhouse, Western Imperialism, 311,
for a more in-depth categorisation of the political divisions between the inhabitants
of Lebanon.
16 Ibid., 304.
17 Ibid., 305.

Working from this context, Eugene Rogan has identified three

competing trends in interwar Lebanese politics, which are useful for
understanding the environment that had developed by 1943.18 First,
by the close of the First World War, the Administrative Council, and
specifically the Maronites and Greek Catholics, agreed that their pres-
ent territory should be expanded and then granted independence under
French guidance. The Administrative Council knew that France had
traditionally looked favourably upon the idea of a ‘Greater Lebanon’,
which would encompass the seaport cities of Tripoli, Beirut, Sidon and
Tyre and extend to the fertile Bekaa Valley in the East and the Anti-
Lebanon Mountains in the west. It sought to use the mandate as a
way to satisfy its own territorial ambitions and move towards eventual
complete independence. Second, many of the over 100,000 strong indi-
viduals making up the Lebanese émigré community also argued strongly
for independence under French tutelage. But they called for indepen-
dence within the geographical confines of an independent Syria. The
third strand included Sunni Muslims and Greek Orthodox Christians
in the province of Beirut, who wanted to avoid becoming minorities in
an expanded Lebanese, Christian dominated state. This group opted
to support Amir Faysal’s Damascus-based government in the hopes of
becoming part of a larger, Arab kingdom. There were also deep divisions
within the Council itself. The Druze remained strongly opposed to a
continued role for France in Lebanon, while the Shii Mutawallis, who
inhabited the southern region of Jabal Amil, favoured a loose affiliation
with Syria. These differences of opinion illustrated the complex nature
of the nationalist movements that continued to develop in Lebanon and
Syria over the next twenty-five years.
After the First World War, initial Lebanese and Syrian attempts to
negotiate independence failed. In July 1920, seven members of the
Administrative Council became concerned over the increasingly heavy-
handed French politics of mandate rule. In a last-ditch attempt to avoid
French occupation, they sought an agreement with Faysal to achieve
immediate and complete independence. French High Commissioner
General Henri Gouraud responded by arresting these alleged traitors
to the French cause.19 In the weeks that followed, French troops deliv-
ered a series of crushing blows to Faysal’s aspirations of statehood.
The attacks culminated in the French siege of Damascus on 24 July,
in which an estimated five thousand Arabs were killed.20 This historical
18 Rogan, The Arabs, 266–268.

19 Ibid., 269–270.
20 Marshall, French Colonial Myth, 129.

background makes plain the depth of French ambition in the Levant and
the extent to which local political movements were highly fragmented.
The willingness of two of the three strands of Lebanese political opinion
to acquiesce to some kind of continued French presence in the region
further illustrates how early nationalist movements were thinking about
and formulating their policies.21 The First World War also influenced
considerably the evolution of Middle East politics. The betrayals car-
ried out by liberal European powers engendered a culture of suspicion,
a rejection of elitist liberalism and an era of political violence.22 These
experiences would inform nationalist demands and expectations during
the Second World War.
Franco-British political manoeuvring within the Middle East also has
a long history. This is important because shared imperial experiences in
this region shaped and limited French and British policy ambitions.23
Individual mandates did not exist in isolation from each other. They
were tied together by a complex network of sociocultural links. This
meant that French and British imperial policy was closely connected,
even interdependent. Greater Syria, encompassing modern-day Syria,
Lebanon, Palestine and Jordan, had been a recurrent source of Franco-
British rivalry since the early nineteenth century. In 1841, communal
fighting amongst the Muslim Druze and Christian Maronites, the two
dominant groups residing in the Lebanese highlands of Mount Leba-
non, was exacerbated by British support for the former and French sup-
port for the latter.24 The much-vaunted 1904 Entente Cordiale may be
celebrated as a mutual assistance pact. But it was rooted in imperial
rivalry. The agreement resolved differences in Franco-British arguments
in North Africa while fomenting others in the Middle East by facilitat-
ing European empire building in Western Asia. In addition, this under-
standing removed all time constraints on the British occupation of Egypt
and acknowledged French ‘rights’ in Morocco. Imperial bargaining of
Arab futures became the norm. The Sykes Picot agreement, concluded
21 This framework was not unique to the Levant. Frederick Cooper likewise examines
how both French and African leadership were advocates of the post-war French fed-
eration movement as a path towards manageable regional development. Frederick
Cooper, Citizenship between Empire and Nation: Remaking France and French Africa
1945–1960 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014).
22 Elizabeth Thompson, Justice Interrupted: The Struggle for Constitutional Government in
the Middle East (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013), 2, 9.
23 James R. Fichter, ‘Britain and France, Connected Empires’, in British and French
Colonialism in Africa, Asia and the Middle East, ed. James R. Fichter (Cham,
Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 1, 9.

in October 1916, originally gave Britain the Ottoman provinces of Bagh-

dad and Basra, the French the Syrian coastal region and Cilicia and
envisaged Palestine under international guidance.25 Despite regional
agreements such as these, Franco-British relations in the Middle East
were more often fraught with tension. In August 1919, the King-Crane
Commission recommended the creation of a single Syrian State under a
constitutional monarchy led by Amir Faysal. Ignoring its findings, Brit-
ain and France carved out the territorial boundaries that remained in
place when global war broke out again twenty years later.
The unrest in the Middle East that punctuated the interwar period
hardened nationalist sentiment against both mandate regimes. This in
turn informed a recognisable pattern of responses in British and French
mandate policy. Within the Permanent Mandates Commission (PMC),
Palestine/Transjordan and Syria/Lebanon were the most discussed of
any of the mandates. Resolving crises in these territories took up 17.3 per
cent and 14.3 per cent of the PMC’s thirty-seven sessions, respectively.26
After the June 1940 assassination of Syrian Nationalist and People’s Party
leader, Dr Abd al-Rahman Shahbander, his deputy, Shukri al-Quwatli
rose to power as the leader of the National Bloc, which had been formally
established in 1931.27 This was the largest, most widely supported group
that fought for Syrian independence during the French mandate period.
Future president of Lebanon, Bishara al-Khoury, founded the mirror
image, Constitutional Bloc in 1936, which likewise advocated for the
dissolution of the Mandate and its replacement with a Franco-Lebanese
treaty. The National Bloc, whose leadership consisted largely of wealthy
urban notables, lost a great deal of credibility after it failed to conclude
a binding treaty with France and prevent the cession of Syrian Alexan-
dretta to Turkey in 1939. At the time of the Exporter invasions in June
1941, it had become opportunistically pro-Axis in the hope of securing
Berlin’s backing for immediate independence.28 By 1943, it had revived
itself as the Nationalist Party.29 The British decision in early 1942 to
begin dealings with al-Quwatli led to the choice later that year to press
for his return to Syria (following his self-imposed exile to Baghdad). This
conciliatory gesture flew in the face of French wishes.30
25 The history of this period has been well documented and will not be discussed in
significant detail here.
27 Dueck, The Claims of Culture, 17.
28 Philip S. Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate: The Politics of Arab Nationalism
1920–1945 (London: I. B. Tauris, 1987), 587.

When Anglo-Free French forces occupied the Levant in 1941,

tensions were already developing along the predictable lines of nation-
alist demands for independence. However, in contrast to the interwar
period, the Second World War introduced a set of political and social
circumstances that would decisively influence the nature and outcome
of Levantine independence demands. The Second World War disrupted
French power structures and fostered and strengthened expectations for
change amongst nationalist leaders and the wider indigenous popula-
tion. Most significantly, Syrian and Lebanese nationalist leaders were
able to exploit Franco-British rivalries to achieve their own goals before
the end of the war.31 Individual leaders, such as al-Quwatli, were skilled
at exploiting British promises of independence.32 By 1943, the Syrian
and Lebanese prime ministers agreed that they would demand com-
plete independence for Syria and Lebanon.33 Social circumstances also
strengthened wider popular insistence for change, and eventually, inde-
pendence. By the time of the invasions in 1941, both Syria and Lebanon
were suffering from acute shortages of food and basic provisions. This
led to a five-day strike from 7 February 1942 (backed by the National
Bloc) in response to increases in bread prices from 8 to 8.5 piastres.34 By
1944, public opinion in Syria was strongly opposed to any compromise
with French authorities concerning independence.35
Free French military subservience to the British in Syria and Leb-
anon, and the Middle East as a whole, complicated the politics of
independence negotiations. The Middle East War Council, which was
comprised of leading British (and, from May 1942, American) officials
in the region, and chaired by Minister of State Richard Casey following
his arrival in Cairo on 5 May, believed that the expulsion of the French
from the Levant was desirable.36 However, there was still a high level of
indecision within Whitehall and inside Churchill’s Cabinet. Churchill
himself remained firmly opposed to any efforts to oust the French from
the Levant in favour of British leadership.
During the Second World War, British policy aimed to avoid renewed
outbreaks of disorder within its Arab territories. The cost of suppressing
31 Zamir, ‘De Gaulle and the Question of Syria and Lebanon’, 678. Barr, A Line in the
Sand, 226. Albert Hourani, A History of the Arab Peoples (London: Faber and Faber,
2005), 356.
32 Wm Roger Louis, The British Empire in the Middle East 1945–1951: Arab Nationalism,
The United States and Postwar Imperialism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984), 167.
34 Ibid., 599.
35 Ibid., 615.
36 ‘Resolutions of the Middle East War Council on the Political Situation the Middle
East’, 17 June 1943, CAB 66/37/47, The National Archives (henceforth TNA).

unrest would divert vital wartime resources. Wartime strategy was to

‘bolster the region’s friendly regimes’.37 This approach grew out of Brit-
ain’s own violent interwar experiences. Between 1918 and 1939, Britain
had faced costly uprisings in all of its newly acquired mandates as well
as its Egyptian protectorate. In 1936, Britain sent 20,000 troops to Pal-
estine to put down a revolt that dragged on for three years. The destruc-
tion that followed saw more than 10 per cent of the male Palestinian
Arab population killed, injured, exiled or interned.38 In 1941, to signal
support for moderate pan-Arabist sentiment and in an effort to placate
nationalism more generally, the Foreign Office announced its support
for the eventual formation of an Arab League. However, as the Iraqi
revolts in 1941 and growing unrest in Palestine showed, unhappiness
with British interference persisted.
The increasing volume of Zionist demands further destabilised Brit-
ain’s position. Since late 1942, the Jewish Agency under the leadership
of David Ben-Gurion had begun spending 15 per cent of its £1 million
annual budget in training the Haganah, the Jewish defence organisa-
tion.39 Revelations surrounding the extent of Nazi extermination efforts
increased Jewish militancy in Palestine and heightened calls to open the
borders to Jewish migrants, to the chagrin of the Arab population. An
anti-British offshoot of the Haganah, which was established in the midst
of the 1936–1939 Arab revolt, the Irgun Zvai Leumi had been organising
attacks and sabotage operations against British targets since May 1939.
Zionist terrorism represented the most violent expression of Jewish
opposition to Britain’s restrictive immigration policy and its preference
for the 7 July 1937 recommendations of the Peel Commission to parti-
tion Palestine.40 Although the Irgun had suspended such attacks at the
outbreak of war, another Zionist militant, Abraham Stern, responded by
creating the Stern Gang from a dissenting faction of the Irgun. Its fight-
ers continued to resist British policy, eventually carrying out the assas-
sination of British Minister of State Lord Moyne in November 1944.
The Irgun, under the new leadership of Polish-born Menachem Begin,
also resumed operations in December 1943, compounding the worsen-
ing instability in the region.
What eventually became the public face of Britain’s Arab policy was
the product of a plethora of factors. These included the gradual tran-
sition from wartime operational expediency to post-war planning. The
emergence of the United States and Soviet Union as ‘the big two’ marked
38 Eugene Rogan, The Arabs, A History (London: Penguin Books, 2012), 257.
39 Barr, A Line in the Sand, 245.
40 Jackson, British Empire, 140–141.

a significant change in the balance of global power. Indeed, the crisis in

Lebanon could hardly have happened at a worse time. It unfolded on
the eve of Churchill’s meeting with Roosevelt in Cairo between 22 and
26 November 1943 and the Teheran Conference from 28 November to
1 December. American Secretary of State Cordell Hull was at the time
considering publicly denouncing de Gaulle over Lebanon. Roosevelt’s
prior dislike of the Free French leader was likewise strengthened. The
crisis confirmed his decision that the Gaullist movement did not deserve
formal Allied recognition as a legitimate French government.41 For Brit-
ain, the strength of American power was undeniable and unavoidable.
Being able to consolidate regional supremacy in the Middle East after
the conflict hinged upon the British ability to placate demands for reform
or stave off demands to withdraw from Palestine, Egypt and Iraq. With-
out, at the very least, American acquiescence in these endeavours, Brit-
ain had little chance of success.
With their own expectations of independence very much in mind, the
governments and populations of the Arab States were also severely criti-
cal of French intransigence in Lebanon. Britain was well aware that its
response to the Lebanon crisis was being closely watched throughout
the region. It was this interconnectedness that made Middle Eastern
politics so volatile and at the same time constrained British policy. Since
the outbreak of war in 1939, British governance in Palestine was largely
consistent with the pro-Arab tradition of the Foreign Office Middle East
Department. The department often countermanded the residual Zion-
ist sympathies amongst certain Colonial Office personnel. However, by
1943, there was a strong consensus amongst the Jewish community in
Palestine, known as the Yishuv, that the only acceptable post-war solu-
tion was total independence, even if this meant an outright conflict with
the British.42 Arab Palestinians, and indeed the broader Arab world, were
resolutely opposed to the formation of a Jewish homeland in that region.
At the same time, Egyptian aspirations as a regional leader could not
be ignored. British foreign policy between 1943 and 1945 encouraged
Egyptian leadership in the Arab world. This course of action assumed
that Cairo’s continued influence would limit Palestinian weight in any
regional league. Britain would thereby avoid demands for the implemen-
tation of an exclusively Arab state.43

43 Michael T. Thornhill, ‘Britain and the Politics of the Arab League’, in Demise of the
British Empire in the Middle East: Britain’s Responses to Nationalist Movements, 1943–1955,
eds. Martin Kolinsky and Michael J. Cohen (London: Frank Cass, 1998), 42.

The undeniably crucial role that Egypt played as the lynchpin of the
British war effort in the Middle East meant that it was vital to remain
(as much as possible) on good terms with King Farouk’s government.
British Ambassador in Cairo Miles Lampson had successfully pressured
Farouk into dismissing his pro-German Prime Minister, Ali Mahir, in
1940. However, nationalist rumblings from the likes of future presidents
Gamal Abdul Nasser and his fellow army officer Anwar Sadat were
symptomatic of a broader desire to rid the country of its British occupi-
ers.44 Worryingly, these sentiments were too often coupled with support
for the Axis powers. In February 1942, after the resignation of Egyptian
Prime Minister Husayn Sirry, Lampson demanded that Farouk appoint
Wafdist leader Mustafa el-Nahhas Pasha to take his place. In a strange
twist of fate, the national Wafd party was the only Egyptian political
faction that was still credibly antifascist. Lampson had Farouk’s Abdin
Palace surrounded with British troops and armoured vehicles. This show
of imperial strength did nothing to endear the British to the Egyptian
political elite in the long term.
By the time of the Lebanese parliamentary crisis, British policy in the
Levant had two aims. In the long term, it aimed to conserve regional
influence. In the short-term, it sought to avoid jeopardising the public
image of the Anglo-Gaullist partnership. This attempt to balance two
fundamentally opposing viewpoints was described in the official history
of British foreign policy during the Second World War. Sir Llewellyn
Woodward avoided placing blame for the Lebanese debacle. Instead, he
argued that the French should not have taken such ‘high-handed mea-
sures’ in November 1943 but that the Lebanese were equally rash in
unilaterally revoking French privileges.45 Britain’s dual goals resulted in
often-contradictory policy initiatives. Officials on the ground, such as
Spears and Casey actively worked with local nationalists, advising them
to refrain from violent retaliation as a way to build international sym-
pathy for their demands. However, in London, British Foreign Office
officials hoped to preserve a neutral stance. They knew that backing the
French would jeopardise Anglo-Arab relations while forcing the French
to back down would further undermine Anglo-Free French cooperation.
The CFLN, itself increasingly recognisable as a full-fledged government-
in-waiting, was intent on consolidating French influence in the Levant.
But the CFLN’s lack of resources meant that Free French administra-
tors were compelled to rely upon vastly superior British manpower to

45 Sir Llewellyn Woodward, British Foreign Policy in the Second World War (London: Her

maintain a viable bureaucracy in Syria and Lebanon. Meanwhile, the

local governments and national parliaments of both Levant states were
by this time in agreement about working towards separate and complete
independence. Compromise with the French was no longer on the bar-
gaining table.46
In the case of the CFLN and later de Gaulle’s provisional govern-
ment, attempts to guarantee continued French influence followed a not
unexpected path. French policy in 1943 (and again in 1945) illustrated
that practices of repression and colonial violence were central to French
imperial power. This remained the case even as policy-makers refash-
ioned empire in a more liberal framework. The use and justification of
violence as a demonstration of French rights and power assumed that
traditional responses to local revolts remained defensible. Indeed, these
actions, and their justification under the guise of French cultural and
political superiority bore striking similarities to the suppressions of the
1925 Druze revolts.47 In 1943, the French sought to negotiate agree-
ments that would allow them to maintain military bases and cultural
institutions rather than indefinite mandate rule. But the sentiment
behind its intentions was similar. The perpetuation of a historic pater-
nalistic attitude towards the indigenous population continued to inform
French rhetoric. This time, France and Britain were not military equals,
and ‘the other interested parties were far more influential’.48 Given
France’s lack of military capabilities and the refusal of the American and
Soviet governments to uphold French claims, as the League of Nations
had done, France was crippled.
For de Gaulle, restoring France as a great power demanded national
unity alongside the renegotiation and strengthening of colonial ties. In
1943, however, the German defeat was still a remote prospect. And nei-
ther the CFLN nor certainly Vichy could claim uncontested control over
a French nation or empire. Syria and Lebanon may not have been part
of France’s formal empire, but the administrative rights bestowed on it
through the mandate fostered a similar sense of ownership. Article 22 of
the League of Nations Covenant charged France, an ‘advanced nation’,
with the administration and development of the Levant. It provided no
further details regarding how long this obligation was to continue or

47 Daniel Neep, Occupying Syria under the French Mandate: Insurgency, Space and State
Formation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 69. For more on the ideas
and expectations underlying French Imperialism, see Martin Thomas, Bob Moore
and L. J. Butler, Crises of Empire: Decolonization and Europe’s Imperial States, 1918–
1975 (London: Hodder Education, 2008), Chapter 5.

Rhetorical Battlegrounds 217
how the transition to independence was to be made. Whatever the final

outcome, de Gaulle and the CFLN were adamant that France would
negotiate the future of these states and that this future would include a
place for France.
After the Middle East emerged from four centuries of Ottoman rule,
it found itself in the midst of European domination. As a relatively new
concept, Arab Nationalism was still in its early stages when war broke
out in 1939, and traditional divisions between religious and tribal com-
munities rendered a coherent approach towards independence commen-
surately difficult. This recent history had an important impact on the
Lebanese parliamentary crisis in November 1943. British and French
efforts to uphold their influence in the Middle East were impacted by
local sentiments and material capabilities. In this context, official rheto-
ric was guided or restrained by both traditional understandings of empire
and the growing strength of nationalist demands.
Rhetorical Battlegrounds and Lebanese

Demands for Independence
In December 1942, the French National Committee (CNF) finally
agreed to hold national elections in Lebanon.49 Organised from Beirut
in late August 1943, they resulted in nationalist victories, an outcome
that de Gaulle blamed on British interference.50 Bishara al-Khoury,
a former adviser to General Gouraud, became the new president.
Sorbonne-educated Riad el-Solh was elected as prime minister. The new
government abolished the French Mandate on 8 November and made
Arabic the sole national language. Local French officials, under the
orders of French Delegate General Helleu, responded swiftly. Early on
11 November, Helleu arrested the president, prime minister, three min-
isters and one deputy. They were interned in a fortress in the southern
town of Rashaya. He appointed Émile Eddé, the pro-French candidate,
as the provisional president. Helleu’s actions were unreservedly criticised
within the British War Cabinet, not least because the members regarded
Eddé as ‘a notorious drug trafficker’.51
49 On 24 September 1941, the Comité National Français replaced the Conseil de

Défense de l’Empire Français. The latter was originally founded as a central organ-
isational committee to look after territories that had rallied to de Gaulle. The CFLN
was founded on 3 June 1943. It was recognised as the French provisional government
in September 1944.
50 Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs, vol. 2, Unity 1942–1944, trans. Richard
Howard (London: Simon & Schuster, 1959), 524.
51 W.M. (43) 153rd Conclusions, 12 November 1943, CAB 65/36/21, TNA.

When Eddé dissolved the Lebanese Chamber of Deputies violence

erupted in the streets of Beirut. Meanwhile, Helleu tried to contain the
crisis by clamping down on the rhetoric that surrounded it. He ordered
the seizure of all printing presses in the Levant as a way to suppress
publication of the controversy.52 At the same time, Edward Spears,
Churchill’s representative to the Free French, was quickly becoming
a vocal proponent of Levantine independence. On 24 November, the
Lebanese newspaper Al-Hayat published an extensive article praising
Spears’ role in the movement towards independence. In the interview,
Spears took a decisive stance on the side of the nationalists, an attitude
that would become a source of untold frustration in London. Like Hel-
leu, Spears also saw rhetoric as playing an important role in the crisis.
He told his interviewer that the first thing he did after president Bishara
al-Khoury’s son Kalil informed him of the arrests was to publicise them.
He sent a messenger to Palestine to broadcast Helleu’s actions in English
and Arabic. He also coordinated transport for journalists between Beirut
and Cairo.53 Responses on both the French and British sides showed
how important it was to control the narrative of the crisis within the
immediate region. For the Free French, this would mean trying to justify
Helleu’s actions and defend France’s traditional rights in the Levant. By
contrast, the British, unable to take sides in the argument without jeop-
ardising their local and regional relationships, would choose to maintain
a studied neutrality. This studied silence on the matter was a strate-
gic rhetorical choice. At the same time, the claims of local and regional
actors widened the war of words. Nationalist voices forced British and
Free French actors to respond to demands that would reduce their
imperial claims and thus alter their visions of a post-war world in which
empire played a decisive role.
After Giraud resigned as co-leader of the CFLN on 8 November
1943, de Gaulle quickly consolidated his personal power as premier.
He effectively became president-in-waiting of the French provisional
government expected to emerge from the CFLN. While in Algiers, he
remained reluctant to compromise on the political future of his move-
ment and avoided committing to precise political plans for the post-war
reconstruction of France.54 Images of national solidarity were a way to
unite French interests under a broad Free French banner. They avoided
52 Spears Interview, 11 March 1948, GB165-0269, Middle East Centre Archives

(henceforth MECA).
53 Edward Spears, interview in ‘Al-Hayat’, 24 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3,
MECA.
54 Andrew Shennan, Rethinking France: Plans for Renewal, 1940–1946 (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1989), 56.

creating divisions between proponents and opponents of republicanism

or socialism. De Gaulle had made a few early gestures towards post-war
reconstruction planning late in 1941, but they remained vague and apo-
litical. That November, he delivered a speech at Albert Hall suggesting
that Free France could have a role in France after the war. A month later
he appointed four study commissions to consider post-war problems.55
In October 1942, de Gaulle created the Commission du Débarquement, a
committee to supervise decisions on the administration of France during
the liberation. By the time the CFLN emerged in 1943, despite potential
challenges from internal resistance groups, the organisation was better
placed to contribute to post-war planning. It had physical security and
the organisational framework of a governmental structure.
For de Gaulle and the Free French, post-war reconstruction was never
a purely practical or political endeavour. Rebuilding France at the end
of the war meant restoring its great power status. And doing so called
for patriotism and imperial unity.56 De Gaulle made it very clear in his
memoirs that it was of primary importance for France to regain its right-
ful place as one of the world powers. It could achieve this by leveraging
its historical prestige and remaining overseas territories.57 Crucial to this
restoration of French sovereignty was the ability to formulate, to imple-
ment and to legitimise policy at home and abroad. This mindset was
critical in informing Free French responses during the Lebanese parlia-
mentary crisis. In 1943, Free French justifications of the parliamentary
arrests aimed to legitimise the French position in the Levant.
The rhetoric that Free French officials used to consolidate interna-
tional and particularly American support for France’s position in Leba-
non was rooted in historic assumptions that painted the Lebanese as rash
and immature. While Free French rhetoric raised the spectre of inde-
pendence, it did so with the understanding that it could only be granted
by French authority. The resulting official statements were rooted in
a well-worn discourse of indigenous inexperience and the assumption
that independence meant different things for ‘modern’ and ‘pre-modern’
states. Free French communiqués framed Helleu’s actions in a moral,
humanitarian and legalistic framework. Official statements emphasised
France’s right and responsibility to uphold the mandate. They were a
continuation of interwar constructions that viewed colonial culture and
indigenous inabilities to rule as justifications for French tutelage.58
55 Ibid., 56–57.
56 Ibid., 65.
57 Charles de Gaulle, The Complete War Memoirs of Charles de Gaulle, vol. 3, Salvation,
trans. Richard Howard (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1960), 873.
58 Thomas, Crises of Empire, 127.

From the inception of the crisis, communiqués issued by Henri Bonnet,

de Gaulle’s Commissioner for Information, underscored the legal grounds
of French actions and the inherent bad faith of the Lebanese government.
Bishara al-Khoury, Bonnet argued, presented the French with a ‘fait
accompli’. Helleu was set to begin negotiations for independence, and
it was only the blind and inherently irrational nationalism of the Leba-
nese cabinet that led it to take by force what they were on the cusp of
receiving ‘de bon gré’.59 On 16 November, de Gaulle addressed the Pro-
visional Consultative Assembly to reiterate the appropriateness of French
actions. The mandate, he stressed, was an international statute that nei-
ther the governed population nor the governing party had the authority
to renounce.60 The French position as puissance mandataire (mandatory
power) was obligatory, not voluntary.61 Going further, the French press in
Algiers argued that the Lebanese press approved of the attitude of French
authorities in seeking to preserve strong ties with the French nation.62
This was largely a result of Helleu’s 14 November statement broadcast via
Radio Levant, in which he claimed to have received countless messages of
thanks for the actions he had taken.63
De Gaulle invoked the French Délégation Générale as a responsible
authority bound by France’s status as a mandatory power. This was
an attempt to make French actions appear credible and justifiable.
In this framework, France’s Levantine policies were informed by its
legal obligations, not by unwarranted desires for continued influence.
Helleu’s actions were ‘perfectly justifiable’ and indeed, consistent with
French responsibilities.64 Catroux’s arrival in Beirut to resolve the cri-
sis provided further opportunities for the CFLN to demonstrate good
faith as a protector and guide. France would bestow on ‘cette jeune
nation, en marche vers sa complète indépendance, une nouvelle marque
de son affectueuse sollicitude’.65 But Free French rhetoric was under
pressure both from nationalist movements and the British. Casey warned
Catroux, ‘public opinion in the world and particularly in Lebanon would
be unimpressed by legal niceties’. They, and the rest of the world, would
only remember that France had promised independence and at the first
59 René Richard, ‘Reflets du jour – la France au Liban’, L’Echo d’Alger, 14 November

1943, 1.
60 Charles de Gaulle, Discours et Messages Pendant la Guerre Juin 1940–Janvier 1946
(Paris: Plon, 1970), 344–347.
61 ‘Les Événements du Liban’, L’Echo d’Alger, 13 November 1943, 1.
62 Ibid.
63 British Legation Beirut to Foreign Office, 15 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3,
MECA.
64 De Gaulle, Unity, 526.
65 ‘Reflets du jour – La France au Liban’, L’Echo d’Alger, 14 November 1943, 1.

opportunity defaulted on those promises.66 Catroux’s original plan to

win France ‘moral credit’ in the eyes of the Levant through a seemingly
liberal approach towards independence was beginning to falter under
this sustained public pressure.67
The Lebanese parliamentary crisis showed just how fine a knife-edge
British policy was balanced on in the Middle East. British responses
to the arrests had to assuage nationalist demands without in the
process destroying the Anglo-Free French relationship. And while
policy-makers were able to control the tone of official statements, they
were less able to control the recriminations emerging in the British
press, which began to cause friction between the CFLN and London.
They also fostered expectations from nationalist groups demanding
British action. The British press had been printing prominent stories
about rising tensions in Lebanon from 10 November, the day prior
to the arrests.68 In the wake of the arrests, articles reported that vio-
lence, demonstrations and strikes were taking place across Lebanon
to protest French actions. Bonnet angrily countered what he said were
hugely exaggerated reports. He maintained that a state of calm existed
throughout the region.69 Foreign Office official R. M. Makins, who
was assisting Resident Minister in Algiers Harold MacMillan, reported
that de Gaulle’s Commissioner for Foreign Affairs René Massigli had
requested that press and wireless sources be restrained from exaggerat-
ing the level of unrest outside of Beirut.70
From the beginning, it was easy to recognise the reluctance amongst
British decision-makers to take sides publicly. An official communiqué
published on 13 November confirmed prior promises of independence.
But it lacked any substantial commitment as to how and when this would
be achieved.71 In the Commons, Undersecretary of State Richard Law
described the arrests as causing ‘great public excitement’ in Lebanon
and the broader Middle East. He explained that this was due to the per-
ception that they ‘were regarded as unjustified by the circumstances’.72
66 Minister Cairo to Foreign Office, 16 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA.

67 Ahmed M. Gomaa, The Foundation of the League of Arab States: Wartime Diplomacy
and Inter-Arab Politics, 1941–1945 (London: Longman, 1977), 91.
68 Ibid.
69 Rédacteur diplomatique d’A.F.I., ‘Le Calme le plus absolu règne dans tout le Liban’,
L’Echo d’Alger, 18 November 1943, 1.
70 Mr Makins to Foreign Office, 13 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA.
71 Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘Britain not Consulted’, The Guardian, 13 November
1943, 5. Diplomatic Correspondent, ‘British Approach to French’, The Times, 13
November 1943, 4.
72 Hansard HC Deb vol. 393 col. 1450 (23 November 1943) http://hansard.millbanksys-
tems.com/commons/1943/nov/23/lebanon-situation.

Law’s statement neither passed judgement on the arrests nor portrayed

Britain as being on the same side as the Lebanese nationalists. It only
described the response within Lebanon. Law reaffirmed British com-
mitments to the 1941 promises of independence and the importance
of Lebanon to the ongoing war effort. But he still avoided advocating
a particular course of action. Official communications throughout the
crisis also remained vague. They reverted to broad promises rather than
endorsing a specific strategy. BBC Europe’s broadcasting instructions
stressed the need to impart the ‘moral, political and strategic’ position of
Britain, an approach that depicted the British as a kind of helpful diplo-
matic presence in the current affair.73
Media responses, particularly within Britain, made it difficult to pre-
serve this neutral stance. This was especially the case as news stories
from the British press spread beyond British shores to nationalist audi-
ences within Lebanon. Spears reported that the opinions in these articles
were considered to be equivalent to British policy. The article that pre-
cipitated Spears’s note was published on 15 November in The Times.
It suggested that the Lebanese government had ‘acted with misplaced
haste’. The French cited it to justify the arrests. More importantly, many
Lebanese, who believed The Times to be the ‘mouthpiece’ of the British
government, concluded that Britain was on the side of the French.74 A
few days later, the Foreign Office issued a political directive to officials in
Beirut. It referenced another, much more blatantly pro-Lebanese article
from The Times calling for the immediate release and reinstatement of
the arrested officials. The directive acknowledged that it was now largely
impossible to avoid looming questions about independence.75 A memo
from Spears analysing the Lebanese election crisis concluded, ‘What
can only be described as the flowering of national consciousness in the
Lebanon has proved to be much stronger than religious fanaticism or
sectarian fears’.76 And the vast majority of British press publications were
uncompromisingly pro Lebanese.
The strength of the British media response also highlighted the dis-
parity between official and popular sentiment (to the extent that it was
reflected in the press). It illustrated how, much like criticisms over the
73 Telegram 1280–1282, Vienot à Diplofrance, 18 November 1943, 3AG 1/137, Archives

Nationales (henceforth AN).
74 H.M. Minister Beirut to Foreign Office, 16 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3,
MECA.
75 ‘Lebanese crisis. Daily directive number seven’, 18 November 1943, GB165-0269,
Box 3, MECA.
76 ‘Memo on the recent elections in Lebanon’, 25 October 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3,
MECA.

Darlan deal, within Britain the conflict was interpreted according to a

strict moral and ethical code. Official analyses of the crisis noted the
discrepancy between official rhetoric and the press response: ‘As if at a
single command, the entire British press has launched a large-scale cam-
paign against the Committee of National Liberation’.77 The British press
drew on themes of fair play and credibility when it criticised Gaullist
policy and demanded that Britain intervene in order to uphold its own
honour. One article summarised the crisis by describing French actions
as contrary to the rights of a self-governing and sovereign state: ‘… few
people imagined that the local French authorities would go to the length
of suppressing the National Parliament freely elected … in accordance with
the promises of independence …’.78 Press reports originally published in
the Middle East also influenced the tone adopted by the British press,
just as The Times had affected sentiment within Lebanon. The Times
pointed to the homogeneity of local opinion in the Middle East, writing
that Egyptian and Muslim objections were united in condemning the
harshness of the French reaction.79 The CFLN was portrayed as cling-
ing to the ‘almost non-existent’ juridical foundations of the mandate.80
The British press did not stop at criticising the Free French policy.
It launched direct calls for British action, a response that made White-
hall anxious. Although The Times took a slightly more reserved stance
than more left-leaning publications, there were wide calls for Britain to
involve itself in order to avoid ‘grave embarrassments’ and to protect its
honour.81 At the centre of the issue, once again, were honour and pres-
tige. Britain must act to uphold its own honour, even though this would
likely have negative repercussions for the French position in the Levant.
The British press was dominated by the crisis, and it was not uncommon
to find forecasts predicting both a decline in French prestige and a rise
in tensions between Britain and France. The extent of criticism against
the CFLN was so pronounced that the Foreign Office expressed concern
that Franco-British relations could be irrevocably damaged. An article in
The Observer calling for Churchill to ‘publicly pillory de Gaullism’ was
cited as a particularly concerning example.82 In the Commons, MP for
77 ‘Lebanese Crisis’, 15 November 1943, FO 898/197, TNA.

78 My italics. Special Correspondent, ‘The Danger in the Levant, Background of the
French-Lebanese Breach’, The Guardian, 15 November 1943, 4.
79 Our Own Correspondent, ‘French Attitude on the Mandate’, The Times, 13 November
1943, 4.
80 ‘Mr. Casey in Beirut: Consultation with British Envoy on the Lebanese Crisis’, The
Guardian, 15 November 1943, 5.
81 Leaders, ‘Trouble in the Lebanon’, The Times, 12 November 1943, 5.
82 ‘Lebanese Crisis’, 15 November 1943, FO 898/197, TNA.

East Fulham Mr William Astor made it clear that he believed that Brit-
ain had to take action to guarantee Lebanese independence in order to
maintain British honour.83 MP for Oxford Quintin Hogg argued that the
Lebanese, as ‘among the most gifted of the Arabs’, should not be pres-
sured into a treaty they did not wish to make.84
The problem that British policy-makers faced was that there was no
good side to take in the conflict. Adding to the pressure of its home
press, local and regional nationalist groups were wielding the Allies’ own
wartime narrative to make the case against imperial domination. Writing
from Cairo, British diplomat Terence Shone expressed his concern over
Egyptian reactions. The Egyptian press, he argued, was unabashedly
on the side of the Lebanese. Egyptian publications were mobilising the
democratic principles expressed in the Atlantic Charter as proof that
French actions were indefensible.85 The daily Wafdist newspaper Al
Misri followed the 8 November pronouncements closely. It called on the
CFLN to recognise the death of imperial regimes and the incompatibility
of Allied principles with the domination of a large nation over a small
one.86 If Britain chose to step in on the side of the French, this ‘would be
extremely awkward’, Shone continued.87 Saudi monarch Ibn Saud also
cited the democratic themes of the Charter in his telegram to Churchill.
He invoked a highly cultural image of the British, which drew on ideas
of fair play and its historic commitment to champion the cause of the
underdog.88 The Iraqi response was no less scathing. On 13 November,
the Chamber argued that continued British support for and backing of
the CFLN was allowing French officials to maintain control over the
Levant. A few members even called French troops ‘British mercenar-
ies’.89 The following day, British ambassador in Baghdad Sir Kinahan
Cornwallis reported that the Iraqi press was united in condemning
French actions in Lebanon. Cornwallis stressed that the mass media was
inciting Arab nationalist militancy.90
83 Hansard HC Deb vol. 393 col. 1405 (11 November 1943) http://hansard.millbank-
systems.com/commons/1943/nov/11/lebanon-french-authorities-action. ‘Criticism in
the House of Commons’, The Guardian, 12 November 1943, 8.
84 Hansard HC Deb vol. 393 col. 1451 (23 November 1943) http://hansard.millbanksys-
tems.com/commons/1943/nov/23/lebanon-situation.
85 The Atlantic Charter was a joint statement made by Churchill and Roosevelt on 14
August 1941. Amongst other things, it promised ‘the right of all peoples to choose the
form of government under which they will live’.
86 Al Misri, 8 November 1943, 4GMII/29, Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (hence-
forth MAE).
87 Shone to Foreign Office, 10 November 1943, GB165-0269, MECA.
88 H.M. Minister, Jedda to H.M. Minister, Beirut, 13 November 1943, MECA.
89 H.M. Ambassador, Baghdad to H.M. Minister Beirut, 13 November 1943, MECA.
90 H.M. Ambassador, Baghdad to Foreign Office, 14 November 1943, MECA.

British Foreign Office documents have demonstrated that Arab attitudes,

not just in the Levant, but throughout the Middle East, were of primary
importance. However, this agreement did not eliminate differences of opin-
ion over how to achieve Arab support and at what cost. Spears and Casey
prioritised finding a solution that would bolster Arab opinion towards
Britain even at the expense of de Gaulle. In Algiers, Macmillan was reluc-
tant to move beyond threats and publicly compromise Franco-British
relations.91 There were pitfalls on both sides. Intervening too strongly on
the side of the nationalists could have serious consequences for Britain’s
relationship with de Gaulle. It could also jeopardise British standing in the
Middle East. A Foreign Office directive noted that British intervention and
the blatant championing of the nationalist cause could provide an opportu-
nity to question ‘British hypocrisy in posing as the champion of oppressed
native populations in view of India, Palestine, etc.’.92
The result was that British policy-makers found themselves trying to
appear outwardly supportive of growing pan-Arabism (even if interstate
rivalries lingered) while simultaneously avoiding treading on French sen-
sibilities.93 Faced with the contradictions inherent in such a policy, the
Foreign Office chose instead to cast Britain as a disinterested but help-
ful negotiator, in the Lebanese crisis and in wider regional matters. At
the same time, the seriousness of the situation left the Foreign Office in
no doubt that the French must be quietly forced to comply with British
demands. Not able to take a strong stance publicly, British officials chose
instead to place pressure on the French privately, in the hopes that they
could retain their neutral position.
Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden’s initial telegram to Macmillan on
12 November instructed him to make it clear to the French that their
actions were ‘wholly indefensible’. The note warned that if British
demands for the recall of Helleu and the release of the ministers were not
met, ‘we should be compelled to take a line which would certainly imply
dissociating ourselves completely from the French, and might entail
consequences which would be most unpleasing to them’.94 Eden was
instructing Macmillan to threaten to publicly disavow French actions in
the Levant and forcibly reverse them. But these threats were delivered
out of sight of the public eye.
91 ‘Directive on the Statement by the British Government on the Declaration of Martial

Law in the Lebanon’, 20 November 1943, FO 898/197, TNA.
92 ‘Directive on the Statement by the British Government’, 20 November 1943, FO
898/197, TNA.
93 Broader Arab apprehensions of Hashemite ambitions had led to Syria siding with
Egypt and Saudi Arabia against Transjordan and Iraq.
94 W.M. (43) 153rd Conclusions, 12 November 1943, CAB 65/36/21, TNA.

From a material perspective, Britain, and more specifically the Middle

East Command (MEC), could have easily supplanted French forces in
the Levant. De Gaulle routinely complained that while Britain had hun-
dreds of thousands of troops in the Middle East, French forces amounted
to only three Senegalese battalions and the 18,000 local volunteers who
made up the Troupes Spéciales.95 The 70,000 strong Armée du Levant,
traditionally made up of a majority of Senegalese, Madagascan and
North African regular troops, had been disbanded after the Exporter
operations.96 But even the War Cabinet took an early stand against the
use of armed intervention except as a last resort. It preferred the threat
of revoking Britain’s de jure recognition of the CFLN. Threatening to
withdraw recognition from de Gaulle’s Algiers institution was an exam-
ple of rhetorical pressure serving as a legitimate means of intervention
and a diplomatic means to resolve the crisis. On the other hand, the
Foreign Office favoured the threat of martial law combined with a subtle
distancing from French actions. This view became the foundation for a
British ultimatum.97
The ultimatum would be given to Catroux, with the goal of forcing
him to release the internees. There was a strong possibility that the
ultimatum would become public if Catroux refused to comply. The
process of drafting the ultimatum thus also had to consider how to
protect British prestige against criticism from nationalist quarters in the
Middle East and metropolitan France. On 19 November, Casey deliv-
ered what he subtly called an ‘aide-mémoire’ to Catroux. It demanded
that the internees be released by 10.00 a.m. on 22 November or Britain
would declare martial law and free the arrested officials.98 De Gaulle
later argued that Catroux had already taken steps to liberate the min-
isters on his own. And the British did not in fact intervene militarily.
But the debates that surrounded the ultimatum remain instructive.99
British Foreign Office reports stressed the need to prepare appropriate
responses justifying British actions, should intervention become neces-
sary. Decision-makers in this office and the War Cabinet feared that too
strong a British response would reflect badly upon a French audience.
Moreover, it would provide an opportunity to showcase Allied disunity
by arguing that the British were exploiting the French. Even in the midst

97 W.M. (43) 154th Conclusions, 15 November 1943, CAB 65/36/22, TNA.
98 Eden subsequently extended the time limit by 48 hours, making the new deadline
10 a.m. of 24 November. W.M. (43) 159th Conclusions, 21 November 1943, CAB
65/36/27, TNA.

of the crisis, policy-makers remained committed to preserving the notion

of Franco-British cooperation despite underlying policy conflicts.
On 19 November, the Foreign Office, after consultation with Minis-
ter of Information Brendan Bracken, wrote to Casey explaining how to
‘prepare public opinion’ in the event that Britain declared martial law.
Press correspondents ‘should emphasise [the] gravity of [the] local situ-
ation, the rising anxiety in neighbouring countries and danger of letting
the situation remain as it is …’.100 Further directives stipulating how the
crisis should be discussed publicly emphasised the legitimacy of British
actions by connecting them to American and Soviet policies. In the case
that the French refused the ultimatum and Britain declared martial law,
one document stated that it should be made clear that British action was
only taken after consolation with the United States and the Soviet Union
when attempts to compromise had failed.101
The Free French also attempted to use Soviet imagery to suggest
that its right to conclude strategic treaties with its mandate territories
was internationally recognised. Spears reported that a poster depicting
de Gaulle and Stalin side by side had been posted all over Beirut on
10 November. This was a consistent part of French propaganda, Spears
argued, which implied Soviet backing for French actions in the Levant.102
Although the Soviets did not issue a single statement during the Leba-
non crisis, they and the United States became increasingly involved in
the Levant in the following years.103 More importantly, communication
directives illustrated how the British response was constrained by its
desire not to compromise either the Franco-British relationship or its
standing amongst Middle East nationalist groups. Making it look like the
CFLN continued to control the issue allowed Britain to communicate
its policy through rhetoric rather than overt military action. However, it
also fostered the French belief that an agreement with the Levant states
was still possible.
During the Lebanese parliamentary crisis, pressure from a range of
sources impacted British foreign policy. The British mass media, Leba-
nese nationalist groups and British mandate territories in the Middle
East called on Britain to have the internees released and reinstated.
However, doing so would severely compromise Britain’s relationship
with de Gaulle and the CFLN. By intervening, Britain could open the
100 Foreign Office to British Legation Beirut, 19 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3,
MECA.
101 Ibid.
102 Spears to Foreign Office, 11 November 1943, GB165-0269, Box 3, MECA.
103 G. E. Maguire, Anglo-American Policy Towards the Free French (Basingstoke:
MacMillan Press Ltd., 1995), 50.

door to criticism over its own imperial policy. Counter-intuitive as it may

seem, British intervention, using an ultimatum, represented a compro-
mise that allowed Churchill’s government to resolve the crisis without
adopting too vigorous a stance. French acquiescence in releasing the
internees enabled Britain to maintain its position of relative neutrality
while still conceding to France the ever-decreasing possibility of con-
cluding a favourable treaty with its mandate governments. This British
reluctance to be tied to too rigid a policy, whether on the side of the
nationalists or in favour of continued French influence, was signalled
through the absence of official rhetoric advocating one alternative or the
other. Despite pressure from MPs and the mass media to intervene pub-
licly on the side of the nationalists, intervention was inconsistent with the
long-term British interests in the region as a whole. This crisis was just
the beginning of France’s descent towards imperial violence in the early
post-war period. The following chapter will examine how de Gaulle’s
tenure as provisional leader of a liberated French state was, much like
Vichy, primarily concerned with the rehabilitation or renegotiation of the
empire and the wider French nation.
Conclusion
On 21 November, the CFLN announced the release of the internees
and the reinstatement of President Bishara al-Khoury. However, the
crisis was hardly forgotten. For nationalist groups in the Levant, it reaf-
firmed the unacceptability of continued French rule. For de Gaulle, it
confirmed British duplicity. As the Allied victory appeared more assured,
issues of post-war governance, reconstruction and, crucially, French
standing in the global order became supremely important. The rhetoric
of imperial reform during this period was inextricably linked to French
sovereignty.104 In 1943, de Gaulle could not yet claim leadership over
metropolitan France, but he was increasingly asserting power over the
empire.105 His uncompromising attitude towards the Levant remained
a source of concern for his British colleagues. Foreign Office direc-
tives instructed that comments on the freeing of the Lebanese officials
should be minimised and refrain from emotive or highly opinionated
comment.106 This stance reaffirmed the British desire to avoid choosing
104 Martin Shipway, The Road to War: France and Vietnam, 1944–1947 (New York:
Berghahn Books, 2003), 25.
105 Shennan, Rethinking France, 62.
106 ‘Foreign Office Directions for Response on Release of President and Ministers in
Lebanon’, 22 November 1943, FO 898/197, TNA.

Conclusion 229
sides. However, nationalist movements within the Levant continued to

mobilise rhetoric that confirmed their unwillingness to mitigate their
demands for complete independence, even under French pressure. After
the internees were released, French rhetoric, in line with underlying pol-
icy, indicated a fundamental failure to acknowledge that it had lost all
credibility within the region.
For de Gaulle and the CFLN, portraying the event as a French affair
was a sign of both their own power and legitimacy in the Levant. This
remained the case even as the Franco-British relationship was placed
under increasing pressure. Bonnet’s press release argued that the deci-
sion to release the arrestees was not due to ‘outside pressure’ or ‘made
in answer to anybody’.107 De Gaulle defended his policy in his memoirs,
writing that not only had the decision to release the ministers been made
long before the ultimatum, but the British threat was itself a ploy to ‘cre-
ate the impression of a French loss of face’.108 His assertion illustrated
his own concerns over the power differences in the relationship and the
need to ‘set the record straight’ publicly. It was part of a continuing
rhetoric that sought to guarantee a meaningful place for France in the
post-war world. This crisis in 1943, and the mentalities that underlay the
actions and reactions on all sides, laid the groundwork for a second series
of clashes, this time in Damascus at the close of the war. It is fitting to
conclude this broader discussion of war, rhetoric and empire with a crisis
that saw the end of conflict in the European theatre and introduced the
early stages of decolonisation.
107 Special Correspondent, ‘Lebanese President Reinstated’, The Times, 22 November

1943, 4. ‘Le Comité de la libération a pris des dispositions pour régler aussi rapidement
et complètement que possible l’incident Libanais’, L’Echo d’Alger, 22 November 1943, 1.

Conclusion
On 25 August 1944, Charles de Gaulle returned triumphantly to Paris.

By 9 September, he was at the head of his newly formed French provi-
sional government. This turn of events closed one chapter in the war of
words – the battle over who and what represented the authentic French
state. But rhetoric continued to play a fundamental role in the Franco-
British relationship even after Allied victory seemed imminent. The bat-
tles over imperial prestige in the Middle East were one example. Here,
rhetoric underlined long-standing Franco-British tensions. However,
closer to home, both French and British policy-makers were using rheto-
ric in another way, to promote closer Franco-British cooperation. Late
in November 1944, Minister of Foreign Affairs Georges Bidault, French
Ambassador to Britain René Massigli and Foreign Secretary Anthony
Eden discussed proposals for a new Société Franco-Britannique (Franco-
British Society), which would strengthen relations between the two
countries. In particular, Eden hoped to foster, ‘l’éducation, ou plutôt
la rééducation de l’opinion publique britannique au sujet des ques-
tions françaises’.1 A later note stressed, ‘l’alliance franco-britannique
est pour la France une impérieuse nécessité’. Policy-makers would be
wise, it added, to capitalise on images of Britain’s heroic resistance and
de Gaulle’s historic June 1940 declaration in order to communicate the
importance of Franco-British cooperation in the future.2 Even as the war
drew to a close, policy-makers were mobilising rhetoric to tell a particu-
lar story about how it had been won. They were using wartime images
and experiences to sketch the outlines of a new post-war world.
This book has argued that rhetoric matters. Rhetoric is an essential
part of the policy-making process. Throughout the Second World War,
rhetoric was instrumental in policy discussions in London and Vichy. It
1 Massigli to Bidault, 29 November 1944, 28QO/43, Ministère des affaires étrangères

(henceforth MAE).
2 ‘Note sur la Création d’une Association Franco-britannique’, 7 February 1945,
28QO/43, MAE.
260

Conclusion 261
played a vital role in subsequent debates over those same policies, which
developed in the mass media and public opinion in the metropole and
further afield. Rhetoric was not simply the act of explaining a policy,
it was a strategic tool of political persuasion. The arguments that were
being constructed and disseminated via the highest levels of government
policy-making establishments were crafted with the intention of convinc-
ing their readership to think about and discuss an issue in a particular
way. The methods that were being used to construct these arguments
told a story about how and why policy-makers mobilised material facts,
historical imagery, cultural understandings and particular visions of the
post-war future to justify their policies or condemn those of others.
The debates that developed in response to these official justifications,
in the mass media and the public sphere, provide insights into the stan-
dards and norms that were used to judge national and international poli-
cies. Accepting that statesmen used rhetoric in order to influence how
an operation or an initiative was judged by a particular group or groups
leads to a second assertion. Namely, public opinion or what decision-
makers and leaders believed to be public opinion had a tangible impact
on final policies. Likewise, the mass media could echo or challenge the
arguments made through official government statements. Governments
in France and Britain alongside Charles de Gaulle’s Free French move-
ment looked to the press as a reliable measurement of public opinion.
They fashioned policy and policy justifications with this in mind.
Rhetoric was a strategic policy-making tool in its own right, for de Gaulle,
Vichy and the British. The way in which rhetoric was incorporated into mili-
tary operations showed that military manoeuvres had not only strategic but
also symbolic value. Policy-makers used rhetoric to gain power, prestige and
credibility for themselves while simultaneously taking it away from a rival.
This practice was at the heart of British–Free French rhetoric, which aimed
to delegitimise Pétain’s Vichy government while advancing the notion of
continuing Franco-British cooperation. Policy-makers also adapted their
messages according to which audience they wanted to reach. These deci-
sions illustrated the changing influence of discrete interest groups. At dif-
ferent points throughout the war, decision-makers focussed their efforts on
shoring up opinion at home, gaining the respect of neutral opinion abroad
and consolidating the support of anti-imperial nationalist groups. Rhetorical
analyses do not just tell us one thing about policy-making, the press or pub-
lic opinion. They deliver insights into how the priorities and aims of each of
these groups shifted or remained fixed over time. They can tell us something
about the underlying concerns that were driving these shifts.
The manner in which policy-makers chose to craft policy justifications
also tells us a great deal about the social and cultural values that informed

262 Conclusion
high-level decision-making, mass media interpretations and public

opinion. It provides insights into the worldviews of individual decision-
makers. For Britain and the Free French, moral and ethical arguments
were central to their policy justifications. However, after debacles at
Dakar and Syria (1941), both faced widespread public criticism that was
based on understandings of wartime morality in which violence was jus-
tified and necessary. Central to British, Vichy and Free French rhetoric
were also competing notions of what it meant to be French and who
had the right to speak for the French nation. These debates were rooted
in historic understandings of Frenchness or French identity as well as
images of past Franco-British rivalry and Franco-British cooperation.
They drew on varying definitions of French sovereignty in an attempt
to determine whether it resided in metropolitan France or in London,
Brazzaville and later Algiers, with Charles de Gaulle. In these rhetorical
battles, empire played a critical role. It was a material asset and a symbol
of legitimacy. It was the stage upon which these struggles were fought,
militarily and rhetorically.
In each case study that this book has examined, prestige played a
central role in British, Free French and Vichy decision-making. After
the Franco-German armistice was signed in June 1940, Britain had few
offensive military options available. Launching a full-scale attack against
Germany was out of the question. Taking decisive action against the
French fleet, however, was achievable. Moreover, policy-makers knew
that the British public and American officials, including President Roo-
sevelt, supported action to neutralise the fleet. Operational planning
and decision-making at Mers el-Kébir, including the decision not to
offer Admiral Gensoul the option to demilitarise his fleet, was based
on the understanding that any sign of flexibility would be interpreted
as British weakness. After the bombardments, official statements and
press responses portrayed the events at Mers el-Kébir as proof of British
resolve in the present and a promise of Allied victory in the future. Emo-
tive and historic rhetoric made Churchill into a national hero five years
before victory in Europe was achieved. In the case of Mers el-Kébir,
British policy towards the French fleet was not just a response to a stra-
tegic threat. It symbolised British commitment to the war effort. This
had the effect of assuring American official opinion and boosting British
morale at home.
Rhetoric was used in a symbolic way to illustrate British strength and
commitment to the war effort. On the other hand, silence, or the absence
of rhetoric, was also a strategic rhetorical choice. Military debacles, such
as the British–Free French operations at Dakar damaged British prestige,
revealed the relative weakness of the Free French movement and shored

Conclusion 263
up Vichy’s claims of imperial sovereignty. This experience influenced

British, Free French and American planning in later operations. During
the invasions of the Levant states in 1941, British policy-makers were
intent to avoid the political embarrassment that they had experienced at
Dakar. In the first major American-led offensive action in North Africa in
1942, Roosevelt hoped to extinguish any symbolic resistance from Vichy
forces by stressing the American character of the operations. Despite the
large numbers of British forces participating in the Torch landings, this
fact was deliberately withheld from initial public statements.
Emphasising the French character of joint British–Free French oper-
ations in Dakar and the Levant was another rhetorical strategy. Brit-
ish decision-makers hoped to minimise resistance from Vichy forces
and avoid accusations of imperial encroachment. They also wanted to
enhance the legitimacy of the operations by portraying them as a French
initiative even though the majority of troops and the strategic plans were
British. Official communiqués emphasising the inherent Frenchness of
each operation showed how rhetoric was used to enhance the legitimacy
and prestige of the Free French. De Gaulle’s movement was portrayed
as the authentic representative of the French nation and French inter-
ests. British rhetoric supported the Free French directly. It also deliber-
ately separated the French population from the ‘men of Vichy’. Despite
its initial unpopularity and its difficulty in attracting members, the Free
French movement was always symbolically important. It allowed Britain
to argue that operations against French colonial territory were being car-
ried out by French forces for the benefit of the French nation.
For the Free French, rhetoric was a way to construct its legitimacy in
the absence of material resources. This gap between the rhetoric and the
reality of Free French influence was a source of frustration for de Gaulle
and a factor in British–Free French tensions. De Gaulle’s response to
British actions at Mers el-Kébir was typical of this reality. De Gaulle
offered his public support of the bombardments notwithstanding his
private fury. Between 1940 and 1944, de Gaulle had little choice but
to publicly align British and Free French policies. Challenging Britain
would acknowledge the overwhelming British power that held up the
Free French movement. At the same time, Britain’s decision to back de
Gaulle and the Free French as symbolic of French interests and ongo-
ing Franco-British cooperation meant that any apparent tensions in the
relationship would undermine Britain’s own wartime narrative and its
proposed post-war vision.
Battles over imperial holdings were vital for Vichy and Free France.
Each side viewed empire as a symbol of its respective representative legit-
imacy. In each crisis point, British and Free French forces challenged

264 Conclusion
Vichy’s right to freely govern the empire and fleet. The way in which the
Vichy government responded to these challenges betrayed its preoccupa-
tions with shoring up its power and prestige. By casting blame exclusively
on British territorial aggression and imperial rivalry, Vichy rhetorically
marginalised the Free French movement. According to Vichy, opera-
tions in French colonial territory were simple cases of imperial land grab-
bing. De Gaulle and other members of the Free French became traitors
and British agents who had lost all claims to French citizenship. Empire
was just as important to de Gaulle and later the provisional French gov-
ernment. Having an empire signalled legitimacy and conveyed power
and prestige on a global level. Both de Gaulle and the Vichy government
believed that being able to demonstrate control over colonial territories
would help them attain global status and recognition.
By May 1945, the French Empire was even more important, as both
France and Britain sought to find a way to maintain ties with strategically
important mandated territories. At the same time, the reality of recon-
struction at home, increasing demands from nationalist movements
and a heavy reliance on loans from the anti-imperialist United States
made demonstrations of imperial reform essential. It was at this point
that French and British policy rhetoric began to depart from underlying
policy goals. This was especially apparent in the Levant states. Here, and
in the broader Middle East, both France and Britain hoped to preserve
varying levels of strategic, economic and cultural influence by concluding
preferential treaties with their colonies and mandated territories. Their
ability to do this depended upon being able to exert more influence than
the local nationalist groups that were beginning to demand unqualified
independence. Between 1941 and 1945, British and Free French policy-
makers were under increasing pressure to adhere to their promises.
The issue of Syrian and Lebanese independence caused a great deal
of strain in both Franco-British and Franco-Levantine relations. More
importantly, the debates that developed around this issue illustrated the
authority that each side could bring to bear on a global level. Recognising
that a strong rhetorical stance on the side of the nationalists would dam-
age its relations with de Gaulle and its mandated territories, the British
and Middle East Command in Cairo did their best to stay out of the
fray and present themselves as a neutral middleman. However, Britain
could only maintain this position credibly if France, Syria and Lebanon
came to a mutual agreement on France’s future position in those terri-
tories without significant British intervention. This was not to be. What
the three chapters on the Levant showed was that the success of British
policy was inextricably linked to its prestige in the Middle East. Rhetori-
cally backing Levantine independence was a policy that was increasingly

Conclusion 265
at odds with its long-term strategy to preserve British interests in its own
mandates and throughout the region.
The violent repression of nationalist sentiment in Lebanon in 1943
and in Damascus in 1945 discredited French demands and forced Brit-
ain to exercise its superior military and political power. At the same time,
it illustrated the influence of nationalist voices, which were mobilising the
rhetoric of the Atlantic Charter against its authors. American and Soviet
anti-imperial policies (whether rhetorical or actual) helped to interna-
tionalise discussions surrounding the future of empires. Forums such as
the San Francisco conference and later the United Nations would serve
as platforms upon which previously unrepresented states publicised their
grievances to great effect.
The crisis in the Levant was heightened by the fact that the Free
French and later the provisional government never had the material
resources to challenge British policy in the Middle East. Becoming the
head of the provisional government in 1944 may have given de Gaulle
official recognition and legitimacy as the head of the liberated French
state. However, the economic and financial reality in France was dire.
De Gaulle’s attempts to revitalise French prestige through a reformed
empire faced challenges at home and abroad. These challenges reflected
the disparity between French rhetoric and the reality of limited French
material resources. In the Levant, French claims based on historic cul-
tural influence were undermined by nationalist movements determined
to make France adhere to their rhetoric of independence.
Another way in which British, Free French and Vichy policy-makers
tried to assert the credibility of their respective wartime policies was to
justify them using moral, ethical and cultural imagery. Wartime deci-
sion-making was articulated through concepts such as duty, honour,
valour and altruism.3 In the case of the British, the decision to continue
fighting against the Axis powers after the French defeat in June 1940
was almost always portrayed as a moral decision. Churchill’s addresses
promised that victory was guaranteed because Britain was on the ‘right’
side of the battle. One of his best remembered speeches, delivered in
the House of Commons on 4 June 1940, did this by contrasting Brit-
ain’s glorious and fundamentally honourable past with Hitler’s ‘sinister’
and ‘perverted’ ideology.4 Victory over the Axis was never guaranteed
3 Michael Bess, Choices under Fire: Moral Dimensions of World War II (New York: Vintage
Books, 2006), 3. Bess argues that these concepts are essential to understanding the
nature of decision-making during the Second World War.
4 Michael Burleigh, Moral Combat: A History of World War II (London: Harper Press,
2010), 170.

266 Conclusion
as a matter of moral principle, but British victory in 1945 validated

Churchill’s earlier rhetoric.
Anticipated public reactions also influenced British operations against
French colonial territories – how they were planned and how they were
received. In the British operations against the French fleet at Mers el-
Kébir, policy-makers were constrained by the prospect of civilian cau-
salities. They ruled out violent operations at Algiers and the commercial
port of Oran because bombarding these ports would lead to extensive
civilian deaths. When Britain and its allies did use force against metro-
politan France and its empire, it was often justified as an inevitable step
towards victory. British rhetoric developed a two-part argument based
on claims that operations such as those at Mers el-Kébir were necessary.
First, destroying the fleet was essential in order to maintain the British
war effort and eventually liberate metropolitan France. Second, German
perfidy (they will eventually use the fleet against Britain) and French
impotence (they will be unable to resist German pressure) made British
actions inevitable.
British operations at Mers el-Kébir were validated in the British press
and by public opinion as an essential step towards victory. On the other
hand, operational failures at Dakar and in the Levant in 1941 were criti-
cised because they appeared to lack the necessary resolve, even if carried
out against a former ally. After withdrawing without capturing the strate-
gic port of Dakar, de Gaulle tried to save face by claiming that his decision
was taken to avoid bloodshed and a battle between Frenchmen. However,
both the British public and the mass media more broadly unreservedly
criticised the withdrawal. It was, these groups claimed, contrary to the
pursuit of victory. De Gaulle argued that withdrawal was justified because
it was ethical. However, public opinion criticised de Gaulle’s explana-
tions. The conflict called for even demanded decisive and unflinching
action. Casualties were expected and accepted, and there was sometimes
little inclination amongst the British public to consider the Vichy govern-
ment and its armed defenders as anything but an enemy nation.
During the British-Gaullist invasion and capture of the two Levant
states in June–July 1941, discontent over the perceived softness of Allied
forces again led to public criticism. Home Intelligence Reports warned
that the public believed that the slow progress of Allied troops could
be attributed to misplaced sympathy towards Vichy defenders. There
was a great deal of support amongst the British public throughout the
war for policies that appeared to align with the ultimate goal of victory.
There was a significantly lower degree of sympathy for what were con-
sidered enemy casualties, even in some cases, civilian causalities in an
enemy nation.

Conclusion 267
After concluding the Franco-German and Franco-Italian armistices,

Pétain’s Vichy government used rhetoric to refashion the unoccupied
zone as a neutral state. Vichy’s position, either inside or outside of the
conflict, was hotly contested. Britain claimed that imperial incursions
against Vichy colonial territory were justified in the context of war.
German control over French affairs and Vichy’s policies of collaboration,
Britain argued, made it a key player in the wider conflict. On the other
hand, Vichy argued that these operations were illegal and immoral acts
of territorial aggression against a sovereign and neutral territory. After
each imperial crisis, Vichy attacked the brutality of British aggression
against sovereign territory. Not only were British actions unwarranted,
Vichy argued, but they also subverted the traditional democratic process
of negotiation by perpetrating a policy of deadly force against an inno-
cent and unprepared former ally.
To establish credibility for its criticisms, Pétain’s government had
to convince other nations that unoccupied France was indeed a non-
belligerent. This was a difficult task. Even the United States, which
recognised Pétain’s government, failed to sanction French criticisms
against British policy towards France and its empire. In late June 1940,
both Pétain and Darlan argued that the fleet was safe and that their
honour bound them not to act contrary to the armistice terms. How-
ever, a week later, the majority of neutral countries, including the United
States, argued that British actions were justified because the fleet was
threatened by German forces. As the war continued, French concessions
towards Germany further eroded its proposed neutrality in the eyes of
international opinion. This was most apparent in the British–Free French
operations to capture Syria and Lebanon. Minister for Foreign Affairs
Admiral Darlan acquiesced to German demands for the use of Syrian
Aerodromes in the spring of 1941 to support the anti-British uprising
in Iraq. After the Allied invasions of North Africa in December 1942,
Vichy would again grant German access to rebuff incursions in Tunisia.
The total occupation of France in late 1942 put an end to any claims of
metropolitan French sovereignty and legitimacy.
The Second World War was not just a series of military battles. Its
conflicts were also rhetorical. British, Free French and metropolitan
French actors presented their own narrative of the conflict and of the
post-war world that would result. The wartime narratives that were
crafted by British, Vichy and Free French decision-makers were pro-
duced to shore up power, prestige and influence at home and abroad.
This war of words showed how rhetoric, as a strategic tool of policy-
making, played an essential role in the wider conflict. It illustrated the
significance of empire, as a strategic and symbolic asset that was worth

268 Conclusion
fighting over. It demonstrated that the press and public influenced how
official policies were conceptualised, implemented and communicated.
These rhetorical battles showcased how wartime policies and post-war
expectations were being formulated, articulated, debated, judged and
remembered. Rhetoric was used to assert strategic interests or camouflage
a lack of material power. The language and imagery of press releases and
speeches drew on social and cultural values to lend credibility to official
arguments and to try and shape a particular public response. Historic
images of Franco-British cooperation and rivalry suggested that events
in the past could be used to make sense of circumstances in the present.
When viewed this way, rhetoric becomes a powerful tool of persuasion as
well as a robust method of historical analysis. It opens up greater under-
standing into how we try to or are persuaded to make sense of the world
around us. And it underlines the undeniable importance of rhetoric, as
a strategic tool of policy-making and method for asserting national pres-
tige, legitimacy and influence.

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Index
air raids, 9, 124 Boissau, Robert, 187

Alexander, A.V., 31, 40, 60 Boisson, Pierre, 110
al-Gaylani, Rashid Ali, 144 Bonnet, Henri, 220
Algeria Bordeaux Government. See Vichy French
nationalists, 181 government
al-Hasani, Taj al-Din, 169 Bracken, Brendan, 227
al-Khoury, Bishara, 211, 217 Brazzaville Conference. See empire
al-Khoury, Faris, 247 (French)
al-Quwatli, Shukri, 211, 252 British Empire. See empire (British)
Amery, Leo, 29, 122 British Information Services, 241
Anglo-Egyptian treaty, 151, 206 Brooke, Sir Alan, 176
Anglo-Iraqi treaty, 206
Anglo-Soviet treaty, 176 Cadogan, Alexander, 28, 61, 82
Annet, Paul, 175 Cambon, Roger, 45, 51, 64
anti-colonialism resignation of, 92
and national movements, 137 Campbell, Sir Ronald, 32
Arab League, 213, 232, 237, 242 Carleton Gardens. See Free French
Arcadia Conference, 176 Casey, Richard, 212
Armée du Levant, 226 Cassin, René, 162
armistice (Franco-German) Catroux, Georges, 137, 140
acceptance of terms, 39 Cecil, Robert. See Cranborne, Lord
attempts to renegotiate, 130 Churchill, Winston
request for terms, 35 reaction to Dunkirk evacuations, 29
signing of, 43 speeches, 32, 37, 44, 50, 86–90, 131,
Atlantic Charter, 224, 240, 243 156, 246
Attlee, Clement, 256 visits to Paris, 24
Auchinleck, Claude, 144, 165 vote of no confidence, 175
Clark Kerr, Archibald, 185
Barham (ship), 117 Clark, Mark, 187
Baudouin, Paul, 32, 36, 91 Colville, John, 126
Begin, Menachem, 213 Comité Français de Libération Nationale
Belgium (CFLN), 207
German defeat of, 26 Commissariat de Information, 192
refugees (1940), 99 Commissariat Général à l’Information, 12
Ben-Gurion, David, 213 Commission d’Action Militaire (COMAC),
Bevan, Aneurin, 191 238
Beveridge Report, 196 Commission du Débarquement, 219
Bevin, Ernest, 52, 256 Committee on Foreign (Allied)
Beynet, Paul, 249 Resistance, 164
Bidault, Georges, 238, 249, 260 Congo (French)
Blamey, Thomas, 155 Brazzaville, 109
Blum, Léon, 141 Pointe-Noire, 109
284

Index 285
Conseil National de la Résistance (CNR), el-Solh, Riad, 217, 252

238 empire (British)
Constitutional Bloc, 211 and Middle East nationalism, 225
Cooper, Duff, 26 and Middle East public opinion, 163
broadcasts, 27, 52 and Middle East strategy, 141, 146,
Corbin, Charles, 19, 41 204, 242–243, 258
Cornwallis, Sir Kinahan, 224 postwar importance of, 241–242
Cranborne, Lord, 247 wartime role, 52
Crete, 154 empire (French)
Cumberland (ship), 117 Brazzaville conference, 239–241
Cunningham, Andrew, 60, 110, 177 postwar importance of, 232, 235–237
threat of German occupation, 131
Dakar. See Operation Menace wartime allegiance of, 110
strategic importance of, 106 Entente Cordiale, 210
Daladier, Édouard, 12, 76
Damascus Farouk I, king of Egypt, 215
French siege of (1920), 209 Faysal, Amir, 209
Darlan, François, 143 fleet (French)
Berchtesgaden meeting, 144 American opinion of, 64
presence in North Africa, 187 public views on, 63
de Gaulle, Charles, 32 scuttling at Toulon, 189
18 June declaration, 37 strategic importance of, 59–60
arrival in London (1940), 11 Force de Raid. See Gensoul,
interview with George Weller, 168 Marcel-Bruno
leadership of CFLN, 218 Forces Françaises de l’Intérieur (FFI),
perceptions of, 38 238
postwar planning, 218 France
primary aims of, 43 occupation by German troops, 189
provisional government, 234–236, 238 Franco, Francisco, 180
radio addresses, 45, 47, 90 Free French
de Laborde, Jean, 191 British opinions of, 111
de Verdilhac, Joseph, 164 Comité national français (1941), 188
decolonisation, 232 founding of, 49–50
defeat (French) Free French Naval Force, 122
anticipations of, 24 Free French Press Services, 168
interpretations of, 20–22 French Equatorial Africa, 105, 121
planning for, 27 political characteristics of, 238
Dejean, Maurice, 247 French Committee of National
Dentz, Henri Fernand, 140, 143, 164 Liberation. See Comité Français de
Dieppe, 174 Libération Nationale (CFLN)
Dill, Sir John, 144, 177 French Communist Party. See Parti
Druze massacre (Mount Lebanon 1860), Communiste Français (PCF)
208 French Empire. See empire (French)
Dunkerque (ship), 60 French National Committee. See Free
Dunkirk. See Operation Dynamo French
French North Africa
Éboué, Félix, 121 civil society, 181
Eddé, Émile, 217 French Union. See Union Française
Eden, Anthony, 116, 148, 191, 225, 230,
243, 255, 260 Gamelin, Maurice, 25, 140
Egypt, 215 Gensoul, Marcel-Bruno, 78–79,
reaction to Lebanese arrests (1943), See Operation Catapult
224 British press depiction of, 94
Eisenhower, Dwight D., 177 George VI, king of the United
el-Nahhas Pasha, Mustafa, 215 Kingdom, 60

286 Index
Gibraltar, 113, 144 elections (1943), 217

Giraud, Henri, 187 independence proclamation (1941),
resignation of, 218 169
Giraudoux, Jean, 12 nationalism, history of, 208–210
Godfroy, René-Émile, 67 Legentilhomme, Paul, 179
Goree Island (ship), 117 Lengyel, Emil, 104
Gouraud, Henri, 140, 209 Leopold, king of Belgium, 26
Greater Syria cartoon of, 47
frontiers, 210 Levant
Grew, Joseph, 249 British and French withdrawal from,
Griggs, Edward, 241 257–258
Guinea (French), 119 formal recognition of, 237
Free French policy towards, 137, 161,
Hadj, Messali, 181 215–216
Haganah, 213 historic ties to France, 204
Hailey, Lord, 241 independence, 149–150
Haining, Robert, 111 number of allied troops in, 226
Halifax, Lord, 41, 50 rise of nationalism in, 211
Heath, Edward, 1 strategic importance of, 205
Helleu, Jean, 205, 217 Levant mandates. See Syria mandate and
HMS Hood (battle cruiser), 78 Lebanon mandate
Holland, Cedric, 79 Low, David, 47
Home Intelligence (Ministry of Lyttelton, Oliver, 161
Information), 125 Lyttelton–de Gaulle agreement, 166,
Home Intelligence Reports, 11 254
Hull, Cordell, 191
Huntziger, Charles, 43, 158 MacMillan, Harold, 221
Madagascar, 174–175, 179
independence. See sovereignty Madrid, 107
interwar, 19–20 Maitland-Wilson, Henry, 138, 150
Iraq Malta, 113
anti British coup, 144 Mandates. See also Iraq, Lebanon, Syria,
reaction to Lebanese arrests, 224 Palestine, Levant
Irgun Zvai Leumi, 213 debates over independence of, 206
Irwin, Noel, 110 history of Franco-British rivalry
Ismay, Hastings, 113 in, 210
rise of regional nationalism, 231
Japan Mardam, Jamil, 247, 250
advances (1942), 174 Marshall, George, 176
Jebb, Gladwyn, 193 Mass Observation, 11, 32, 37, 96
Jewish Agency, 213 Massigli, René, 221, 245, 246, 260
Massilia, 42
Killearn, Lord. See Lampson, Sir Miles Mers el-Kébir. See Operation Catapult
King-Crane Commission, 211 Middle East. See empire (British) or
Levant
Lampson, Sir Miles, 151, 215, 242 Middle East Command, 165
Laurentie, Henri, 240 Middle East War Council, 212
Laval, Pierre, 129, 178 Ministère de l’Information, 12
dismissal of (1940), 157 Ministry of Information (British), 11, 28
Law, Richard, 221 Moch, Jules, 240
Leahy, William, 159 Monclar, Raoul, 257
Lebanon Mandate Monnerville, Gaston, 235
administration of, 208 Montgomery, Bernard, 195
British ultimatum (1943), 226 Morand, Paul, 31, 34, 38
cultural ties to France, 139, 142 Moroccan Action Committee, 181

Index 287
Morocco launch of, 150

nationalists, 180 portrayal as second front, 185
Morton, Desmond, 109, 146, 164 Oran. See Operation Catapult
Mouvement Républicain Populaire
(MRP), 238 Paget, Bernard, 230, 247, 252
Moyne, Lord, 213 Palestine mandate, 150, 207
Murphy, Robert D., 177 governance of, 214
Murrow, Ed, 196 interwar unrest in, 213
Paris International Colonial Exposition
Naccache, Alfred Georges, 169 (1931), 236
National Bloc, 211 Parr, Robert, 159
nationalism. See empire (British), Parti Communiste Français (PCF), 238
Lebanon, Levant, Syria imperial policy, 241
Neó-Destour, 181 Parti du Peuple Algérien, 181
Noguès, Charles, 40, 180 Peel Commission, 213
North, Dudley, 60, 79, 113, 134 Permanent Mandates Commission, 140,
211
Office Français d’Information, 12 Pétain, Marshal Philippe, 34, See also
Office of Strategic Services, 174 Vichy French government
Office of War Information, 180 British depictions of, 44, 84, 147
oil, 141, 204 ceding of administrative
Operation Barbarossa, 160 powers, 193
Operation Catapult popularity of, 88, 157
bombardment strategy, 78 speeches, 36, 39, 41, 48, 158
effect on American opinion, 85, 97 Political Warfare Executive, 12
Free French reaction to, 90–91 Pound, Dudley, 41, 60, 80
La Traédie de Mers-el-Kébir Priestley, J. B., 29
(propaganda film), 101 propaganda (British)
moral arguments for, 84 interwar planning, 24
negotiations at Alexandria, 97 Prouvost, Jean, 91, 101
operational instructions for, 66–67 provisional government (French).
order to fire on French fleet, 81 See de Gaulle, Charles
Operation Dynamo, 25 Puaux, Gabriel, 142
public responses to, 30–31 public opinion
statistics of, 28 policy maker views of, 10
Operation Exporter, 136 purges (France), 238
armistice negotiations, 164
launch of, 150 Quatre Communes. See Senegal
troop statistics, 161
Operation Ironclad. See Madagascar Renseignements Généraux, 12
Operation Menace resistance. See also Free French
allied explanations of, 120 from French empire, 40–43, 50
arrival of French reinforcements, 113 in France, 238
dismissals over, 134 Reynaud, Paul, 12, 24, 32
Free French character of, 116 broadcasts, 26, 27
impact on Churchill’s popularity, 127 resignation of, 34
Operation Scipio, 109 Richelieu (ship), 61, 117
operational strategy, 108 Roget, Oliva, 230, 251
Vichy response towards, 113, 127 Rommel, Erwin, 174
Operation Susan, 68 Roosevelt, Franklin Delano
Operation Torch, 172 attitude towards de Gaulle, 179, 214
assassination of Darlan, 199, 200 communications with Britain, 60
Clark–Darlan agreement, 188 postwar views of, 176
early iterations of, 176 Rothermere, Harold, 122
exclusion of de Gaulle from, 177 Russia. See Soviet Union

288 Index
Salazar, António, 180 demographics, 139

San Francisco Conference, 237, 249 Druze revolt (1925), 140
reaction to Damascus bombardment, German propaganda in, 146
251 independence proclamation (1941), 169
Sargent, Sir Orme, 256 shelling of Damascus (1945), 251
Secrétariat Général à l’Information, 12 Treaty of Independence (1936), 141
Sedan, 24 Syrian People’s Party, 138
Senegal
population structure of, 110 Temple, Richmond, 127
Service d’Information à l’Étranger, 12 Thorpe, Jeremy, 1
Service d’Information Presse et Censure, 129 Tirailleurs Sénégalais, 110
Service de la Propagande, 129 Tobruk, 174
Service de Renseignements, 140 Treaty of Lausanne, 208
Service du Contrôle Technique, 12 Troupes Spéciales, 226, 250
Service Général d’Information, 24 trusteeship. See San Francisco
Services de la Propagande (Vichy), 53 Conference
Sétif uprising (1945), 248 Tunisia
Sfax nationalists, 181
British bombardment of, 144 Turkey, 144
Shahbander, Dr Abd al-Rahman, 138,
211 union (Franco-British), 34–35
Shone, Terence, 224, 230, 246 Union Française, 236, 240
Singapore, 174 United Nations, 237
Siriex, Paul Henri, 168 United States
Sirry, Husayn, 215 entrance into the war, 172
Smuts, Jan, 194 French petition to, 33
Société Franco-Britannique, 260 imperial policies of, 231, 249
Somerville, James, 61, 79, See also
Operation Catapult van Hemert Engert, Cornelius, 169
sovereignty, definitions of, 206 Vansittart Committee, 38
Soviet Union Vansittart, Robert, 83, 198
demands for second front, 173 Vichy French government, 64
German invasion of (1941), 160 abolishment of Third Republic, 101
relationship with Britain, 175 plans for imperial expansion, 112,
Spears, Edward, 33 131
appointment as Minister of State in popularity of, 156–157
Beirut, 170 relationship with Britain, 107, 115,
meeting with Pétain, 34 129–130
Middle East policy, 163, 218, 245 relationship with Germany, 130
resignation of, 246 von Thoma, Wilhelm, 195
Special Operations Executive, 174
Stalin, Joseph, 173 Wafd party. See Egypt
Stern Gang, 213 Wavell, Archibald, 144, 164
Stern, Abraham, 213 Welles, Sumner, 194
Stimson, Henry, 176 Westerland (ship), 117
Strasbourg (ship), 60 Weygand, Maxime, 25, 176
Suez Canal, 204, 243
Sykes Picot agreement, 210 Yalta Conference, 246
Syria Mandate
cultural ties to France, 142 Zionism. See Palestine mandate

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War of Words

Rachel Chin is Postdoctoral Research Associate on an AHRC-funded

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Acknowledgements page viii

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I thought that writing acknowledgements would be one of the easier

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BEF British Expeditionary Force

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On 22 June 1940, Marshal Philippe Pétain’s newly constituted French

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future of France, each side worked hard to demonstrate the legitimacy

https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.003 Published online by Cambridge University Press

British narratives of the conflict. Having and holding imperial territory

4 See, for instance, Michael Dockrill, British Establishment Perspectives on France,

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These accounts treat policy-making primarily as a realist practice – a

https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.003 Published online by Cambridge University Press

https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.003 Published online by Cambridge University Press

these policies. In other words, it is impossible to truly understand France

11 Thomas and Toye, Arguing about Empire, 7.

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wartime discourse under the umbrella of propaganda ignores the value

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policies shows how normative concepts such as morality, ethics, national

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homogenous reaction to the war across Britain. David Thoms argues

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It is widely recognised that public opinion, although notoriously dif-

23 Hucker, ‘International History’, 779.

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policy and wider public sentiment. Policy-makers wanted to be able to

https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.003 Published online by Cambridge University Press

showed that policy-makers took public sentiment seriously in theory,

32 Robert J. Young, Marketing Marianne: French Propaganda in America, 1900–1940

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https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.003 Published online by Cambridge University Press

https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.003 Published online by Cambridge University Press

https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.003 Published online by Cambridge University Press

France and French interests: Philippe Pétain’s metropolitan government

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For Britain, maintaining French imperial territory in the midst of a

https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.003 Published online by Cambridge University Press

Policy is not determined by material resources alone. Decision-makers

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On 5 June 1940, French Ambassador to London, Charles Corbin sent a

https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.004 Published online by Cambridge University Press

https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.004 Published online by Cambridge University Press

Bloch’s Strange Defeat, published in 1949, was influenced by his first-

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https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.004 Published online by Cambridge University Press

https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009180993.004 Published online by Cambridge University Press

17 ‘International Propaganda and Broadcasting Enquiry, Possible Lines of Activity Now

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infamous report ‘British Strategy in a Certain Eventuality’ argued that

20 ‘British Strategy in a Certain Eventuality’, Report by the Chiefs of Staff, 25 May

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of the same ideal, we are invincible’.23 British Minister of Information