As a staff member of the National Unified Tax Workers’ Union (SNUI) since February 1974 and its general secretary since October 1980, I lived through the period following May 10, 1981, without, of course, fully understanding what was happening or what was at stake, and without really knowing whatshould definitely be done—and not done. From my position, I could see and hear certain things, but very little compared to everything that would need to be examined today to try to gain a comprehensive view. The following pages are therefore merely a personal perspective on this period and on the assessment of the relationship between labor unions and political parties, relying primarily on memory—which is no absolute guarantee of accuracy*. * The original text provided by Gérard Gourguechon is about twice as long as the version published here. It will be included in its entirety in a forthcoming book compiling various contributions by the author.

Gérard Gourguechon, former general secretary of the Syndicat national unifié des impôts (SNUI, now Solidaires Finances publiques), served as spokesperson for the Solidaires trade union federation until his retirement in 2001. He currently heads the National Interprofessional Union of Solidaires Retirees (UNIRS).

A Left-Wing President, a National Assembly, and a Left-Wing Government to “Change People’s Lives”

On May 10, 1981, the election of François Mitterrand as President of the Republic ushered in a new phase in French political life: for the first time since 1958, France experienced a change in political leadership. On the evening of the election, a massive public celebration at Place de la Bastille in Paris brought together a portion of the “left-wing populace,” who sang in the rain, jumped up and down, and chanted “we’ve won!” in every possible way! Across the country, “popular jubilation” also erupted, except in the “upscale neighborhoods,” including Paris’s “Golden Triangle” of Neuilly–Auteuil–Passy. But the class struggle continued even amid the celebrations, a fact confirmed in particular by the capital flight that began immediately—both on a large scale and through the behavior of many individuals. Faced with capital, and especially in the face of capital’s owners, the government, the parliamentary majority, the labor unions, and left-wing voters will generally be either powerless, ignorant and naive, or conciliatory—even de facto complicit.

When state power is partly in the hands of the left, economic power is always allied with the right. When the left comes to power, perhaps the first thing to do is not to celebrate the victory by deluding oneself into thinking that “we’ve won.” In fact, that is when the real work begins, and May 10, 1981, and the days that followed amply confirm this.The “right-wing forces”—the financial sector, the holders of capital—all believe they are the only ones with the legitimacy to hold power. So when left-wing forces come to power through fair elections—forces that say we must break with capitalism and that, furthermore, form a government coalition with Communist ministers, it’s as if the world is coming to an end. Yet the right, which had been in government for decades, has little to be proud of in its record: the left-wing government would “inherit” a disastrous economic situation, with unemployment already endemic and double-digit inflation that had persisted for several years.

In the aftermath of May 10, 1981, a wave of panic swept through large corporations, among the wealthy, and likely among many prominent figures. Those who owned property may have feared being dispossessed, worried that their businesses would be nationalized, and so on. Collectivism was about to take hold in France. Michel Poniatowski, former Minister of the Interior in the first Barre government, even predicted “Russian tanks at the Concorde.” This panic was all the more intense because, just a few days earlier, these same people had not believed it possible. Thus, on April 24, 1981, two days before the first round of the presidential election, the Paris Stock Exchange, anticipating Giscard’s reelection, rose by 2 percent. And it would gain another 2.5 percent on the Thursday before the second round, driven by speculators’ enthusiasm for the stocks of companies susceptible to nationalization, convinced as they were that these stocks would soar as soon as the prospect of nationalization faded with Giscard’s reelection. But the day after May 10, things were quite different. On Monday, May 11, the Paris Stock Exchange opened to such a flood of sell orders that only ten companies could be listed. On May 13 and 14, the Paris Stock Exchange fell 13.9% and then 9.5%. At the same time, the foreign exchange market was severely shaken.

The Swiss franc’s exchange rate skyrocketed, and the Banque de France spent $5 billion to prop up the franc, equivalent to one-third of its foreign exchange reserves. During this interregnum—between May 10 and Mitterrand’s inauguration at the Élysée Palace on May 21—many of those who owned valuable assets that could be relatively easily moved and transported rushed to put them in a safe place, particularly in Switzerland. Car trunks were filled with jewelry, gold bars, banknotes, and so on. Foreign capital also fled the country. The wave of panic subsided slightly ten days later, when François Mitterrand took office at the Élysée Palace: his first government, pending the legislative elections, did not include any Communist ministers. And it was Jacques Delors who took over as Minister of the Economy and Finance. Jacques Delors reassured these people: he had served as a special advisor to Jacques Chaban-Delmas, Prime Minister from 1969 to 1972, and had worked alongside him to develop the “new society” project; he therefore appeared, as we would say in 2022, very “compatible” with maintaining the capitalist system.

On May 21, 1981, while François Mitterrand solemnly laid a rose on the graves of Jean Moulin, Jean Jaurès, and Victor Schoelcher, Jacques Delors and Pierre Mauroy drafted the first exchange control measures intended to stabilize the franc. On May 26, François Mitterrand met in turn with André Bergeron (FO), Edmond Maire (CFDT), Georges Séguy (CGT), Guy Georges (FEN), Jacques Tessier and Jean Bornard (CFTC), and Jean Menu and Paul Marchelli (CFE-CGC). Each organization outlined some of its demands. Discussions centered on raising the minimum wage and family allowances, as well as reducing working hours, but no one seemed alarmed by the attacks launched by capital holders, who remained on the offensive. New fears for capital holders would emerge with the legislative elections, which gave 58% of the seats in theNational Assembly to the Socialist Party (44 PCF deputies and 285 PS and MRG deputies) [1], which will thus be able to implement its legislative agenda.

Within the government, very quickly, some ministers advised “adapting to the economic context”—that is, yielding to the demands of capital owners, which is what one must do when one is unable to impose anything on them. Michel Rocard, Minister of Planning and Regional Development from 1981 to 1983, was among them. Jacques Delors, Minister of Economy and Finance in the Mauroy government, was also among them. As early as October 4, 1981, following the first devaluation of the franc, Delors expressed his desire to scale back the government’s spending (a refrain we would hear time and again thereafter, and still hear today, in 2022, which typically translates into “scaling back” the public sector, a reduction in its missions, public sector job cuts, and a freeze on civil servant salaries). He also wanted to improve the “competitiveness” of businesses—a refrain we would continue to hear, including as a pretext for, in reality, increasing shareholder dividends. In November 1981, Delors was the first to advocate for a pause in reforms: Indeed, those who call themselves “reformists” seem to have quickly run out of “reforms.” Very soon, in fact, the word “reforms” would be co-opted from all sides to push through counter-reforms, social rollbacks, and increased inequality.

On June 9, 1982, François Mitterrand, taking stock of the economic situation during a press conference, announced the “second phase” of change. On June 12, in Brussels, the finance ministers of the Ten [2] (Delors for France) decided to readjust the exchange rates of four currencies within the European Monetary System: the mark and the florin were revalued, while the lira and the franc were devalued. As a result, the franc lost 9.59 percent against the German mark. The newspapers noted that the French government had been sharply rebuked by Rhine capitalism. This was already the second devaluation of the seven-year term, following the one in October 1981. On June 13, 1982, Mauroy and Fabius announced a series of measures designed to accompany the devaluation, officially aimed at reducing inflation to less than 10 percent without jeopardizing growth or worsening unemployment.

A total wage freeze and a partial price freeze were announced through October 31, 1982. The budget deficit, in 1983 as in 1982, would have to be limited to 3% of GDP. Civil servants and members of the liberal professions—who, until then, had not been contributing to UNEDIC. On June 28, 1982, the government’s plan on prices and wages was adopted by the National Assembly: the wage freeze marked a new phase of change! Years later, Jacques Delors would boast ofhaving been the first to successfully decouple wages from prices without triggering a national strike! The government’s weakness in the face of the financial sector and capital owners was also evident with regard to capital flight. This was observed by customs officials, particularly those stationed at the border between France and Switzerland. Thiswas also a statement made to *La Tribune de Genève* by the representative of Swiss private bankers as early as May 15, 1981. On May 13, 1981, Alain Mauger, general secretary of the CGT Customs Union, declared at a press conference that “the General Directorate of Customs does not seem to have the will to prevent capital flight”. The CGT union believes that tightening border controls on travelers is a token measure, out of touch with reality. The union calls for “absolute priority to be given to monitoring banks and companies subject to nationalization, as they can transfer capital through simple accounting maneuvers or transfers to private accounts.” The union even added that “if the General Directorate of Customs does not significantly change its approach, it would consider asking its members to take action on their own initiative whenever fraud is suspected, as provided for in the regulations.” For its part, the CFDT Customs Union sent a telegram to Mr. Mitterrand asking him to redefine the duties of customs officers. In retrospect, these were steps “in the right direction” taken by a few labor organizations, but they stopped short of any concrete action: it was clear that capital was throwing itself headlong into the class struggle, yet the most politically conscious segment of the labor movement remained at the ready! The death of the economic recovery and the government’s shift toward government’s “austerity,” confirmed in 1983, would stem the outflow of capital, and in April 1983, François Mitterrand traveled to Switzerland on an official visit (the first since 1910): from then on, the government made peace with capital, and capital knew it still held the key to the house of France.

The government’s initial weaknesses, rapid setbacks, and gradual deviations in the struggle against capital

To begin analyzing the programmatic weaknesses of the left, it is necessary to revisit the content of the Common Government Program, adopted on June 27 and signed on July 12, 1972. It addresses issues of wages, employment, health care, urban planning, education, scientific research, sports, recreation, the advancement of women, the family, and youth. It is a very good social program aimed at working men and women, supplemented by provisions on the democratization of labor and economic planning. But it is rooted in a capitalist society: 80% of the means of production would remain under private ownership, and profit would continue to be the driving force of the system. On October 13, 1976, under the theme “Socialists Facing Economic Responsibilities,” the leaders of the Socialist Party met with business leaders at a Forum de l’Expansion. And Mitterrand clarified: “It is true that free enterprise must have limits. Does this mean rejecting the entrepreneurial spirit, the laws of the market, or the creation and growth of profit? No. That is the way it is; even if one can dream—I, for one, do not dream.” And Rocard added “…one does not tamper with the market; its logic is global: and, even if it were publicly owned, a company operating in an open economy is obliged to respect its constraints.” Nationalizations were still planned, but with the payment of generous compensation that would allow capital owners to regain capital available for other innovative investments. Very quickly, even before the 1981 election victory, ideological shifts had already taken place. We were already far removed from the call for a break with capitalism advocated by the left-wing elements of CERES [3] and far from the move toward socialism championed by the PCF [4].

Trust in left-wing parties became the dominant narrative on the left. “Struggles” would find their outlet through elections. An electoralist mindset took hold and dominated public opinion. This led, to a greater or lesser extent, to trade unions following the lead of left-wing political parties, which did not want an explosive social situation in the workplace. Rooted in respect for property rights, the Common Program is, in fact, based on respect for bourgeois legality, and it will therefore, to a greater or lesser extent, help to channel the struggles: struggles are waged, and when they fail, the response is that the ballot box will resolve the impasse. The 110 proposals put forward by candidate François Mitterrand were ratified by the PS’s Créteil Congress on January 24, 1981; they were inspired by the Socialist project, itself shaped by the compromise between the French Communist Party (PCF), the Socialist Party (PS), and the Left Radicals as embodied in the 1972 Common Program. On economic matters, the proposals fit entirely within the framework of the capitalist market economy, even if they may represent social advances for workers: a stimulus plan, investment, major public works, support for research, job creation, planning, nationalizations, strengthening of unions, the 35-hour workweek, an increase in the minimum wage, a wealth tax, energy conservation, etc.

Very quickly, workers would realize that while they may have “won” on May 10, 1981, but that they are not the ones in power. Pierre Mauroy’s first government included 7 Énarques, accounting for 20 percent of the ministers. Among the influential figures who gathered in the ministries, at the Élysée Palace, and at Matignon—and who soon rose to lead central administrative bodies or major public enterprises— were primarily men who had joined the Socialist Party (PS), particularly during their time at the ENA in the 1970s. Among them were likely sincere, progressive individuals who genuinely wanted to improve the situation for the greatest number of people, and most certainly also those who had come there to gain power, to make decisions and take action, regardless of the direction, perhaps, and also to advance their careers. One would have to know the depths of their souls to categorize Jean-Pierre Chevènement, Pierre Joxe, Laurent Fabius, Lionel Jospin, Jean-Paul Huchon, Jean-Cyril Spinetta (who, incidentally, founded a CFDT chapter at ENA), Daniel Lebègue, Michel Rocard, François Hollande, Ségolène Royal—names that come to mind, just like that—and others. Just as quickly, at the Élysée, at Matignon, and in ministerial offices, men and women will effortlessly grow accustomed to their new roles, to the workings of the state apparatus, to the codes of the bureaucracy, to the splendor of the Republic, and to the driver who takes care of your transportation; but, to show that they are “one of the people,” they will sit next to the driver, and not behind him, as right-wingers used to do. François Mitterrand, who in 1964 had published an essay titled *Le Coup d’État permanent* (*The Permanent Coup d’État*), in which he denounced the letter of the Fifth Republic’s Constitution and the practice of personal rule that neglects intermediary bodies, would very easily adapt to the presidential system, prioritizing personal relationships and allowing a multitude of courtiers to flourish.

On May 21, 1982, speaking from Épinay-sur-Seine, Pierre Mauroy declared before delegates from Socialist party chapters and corporate groups: “Excessive nominal increases in income and wages fuelinflation and deprive our economy of the means to create jobs.” Thus, just one year after May 10, 1981, the Socialist prime minister asserted that wage increases were the cause of unemployment—and specifically only “nominal increases”—even though inflation was higher and there was, in fact, a decline in real purchasing power. One might think one were hearing Yvon Chotard, the president of the National Center of French Employers (CNPF, later renamed MEDEF): we must lower workers’ real purchasing power; we need a distribution of wealth that favors capital even more. The “business-oriented” activists within the Socialist Party took the blow in stride, but there was no rebellion. And in June 1982, Pierre Rosanvallon, one of the President’s key advisors, highlighted the constraints of what was not yet called globalization: “In an open economy, there is little room to maneuver. We don’t just trade goods and services; inevitably, we also end up being forced to import economic policies.” All of this came to fruition on June 28, 1982, when the National Assembly passed a law favoring capital at the expense of labor. Indeed, on June 13, 1982, with a total wage freeze and a partial price freeze, the government decided to scale back its demands in the face of resistance from capital holders. The government and the ruling parties did not denounce the attacks by capital, nor did they call on voters to defend their vote by taking to the streets and putting pressure on employers. The leaderships of the labor unions also remain idle, even as they begin to see the damage.

In March 1983, the “turn toward austerity” was confirmed, marking a radical shift in economic policy following the adoption of a Keynesian stimulus policy amid attacks on the franc, which was still pegged to the European Monetary System. Two factions clashed. Some, such as Bérégovoy, Fabius, Chevènement, and Riboud, advocated an expansionary but costly policy, with a large deficit, France’s exit from the European Monetary System (EMS), and tighter exchange controls. Others, such as Mauroy, Delors, and Peyrelevade, pushed for the adoption of austerity measures, which led to the abandonment of the program championed during the 1981 campaign but kept France within the European project. Mitterrand opted to keep France in the European Community, which entailed ending the stimulus policy, curbing inflation through higher interest rates, and cutting public spending. These measures were announced on March 21, 1983.

The third Mauroy government, which lasted from March 22, 1983, to July 17, 1984, fully embraced the austerity policy and confirmed the abandonment of the commitments made to voters in 1981. It brought together figures who, as recently as 1982, had been at odds over the political choices to be made. Bérégovoy and Fabius, who had advocated for an exit from the EMS, served as Minister of Health and Minister ofIndustry, alongside Rocard, Minister of Agriculture, and above all Delors, Minister of the Economy and Finance—both of whom advocated for stricter austerity measures. These rapid about-faces would also become the hallmark of much of the political class, further disorienting voters, who could clearly see that it was difficult to “trust” the government. Despite the deliberate choice of austerity, there were still four Communist ministers in this government: Charles Fiterman in Transportation, Marcel Rigout in Vocational Training, Jack Ralite in Employment, and Anicet Le Pors in the Civil Service. Charles Fiterman, who had been, within the PCF in the period leading up to May 10, 1981, the main proponent of the “self-management” line based on the development of “grassroots” struggles—to put pressure on both the employers and the Socialist Party (PS) and to ensure the implementation of the common program—thus became Minister of State in June 1981, Minister of Transportation [5], and would, in fact, act as a brake on any development of struggles, particularly at the SNCF. The Communists would go along with the gradual slowdown of the reform policy undertaken in the first months of the seven-year term. It was especially from this point on that the great rift would begin between thethe PCF’s political apparatus and a significant portion of its activist base, as well as between the CGT leadership and a large number of its members. When, from time to time, the PCF voiced criticism of the government’s policies, François Mitterrand would frown: “You can’t have one foot in the government and one foot out.” And everyone would fall into line.

Things became clearer starting on July 17, 1984, with the formation of the Fabius government, which lasted until March 20, 1986 (the beginning of the first period of “cohabitation” with Jacques Chirac). This government no longer included any Communist ministers. Despite requests and proposals from Mitterrand and Fabius, and despite the wishes of the outgoing Communist ministers, the PCF Executive Committee voted against their participation in this new government. Pierre Bérégovoy, as Minister of Economy and Finance, would pave the way for a privatization process that would continue uninterrupted for several decadesthe present day, in 2022. The financial markets were partially deregulated, a deliberate signal that the government was playing into their hands by gradually allowing them to operate without limits or controls across the entire globe. Thus, capital holders would be able to pit the tax and social systems of nations against one another, along with their public budgets. One concrete example of this will be the reduction in the corporate tax rate, from 50% to 45%, depending on whether profits are reinvested in the company or distributed as dividends to shareholders. In 1986, Chirac would follow this path by extending the reduction, and this is how we would arrive at a rate of 25% in 2021. In September 1989, Prime Minister Michel Rocard dashed the hopes for a “social Europe” that had been repeatedly championed: “We have a majority of conservative governments in the community. They believe that the best way to achieve growth is to let people make money any way they can, to tax capital and its income almost not at all. The rules of the game of international capitalism penalize any bold social policy. We must accept the rules of this cruel game in order to build Europe.” The fall of the Berlin Wall a few days later would continue to prove Margaret Thatcher and those who wanted to maintain the status quo—with capital calling the shots—right: “There is no alternative.” If, indeed, the alternative lay beyond the Wall… For those who still seek to radically change society, the hope that another world is possible will not be called into question in the least.

To illustrate the extent of the Socialist Party’s (PS) drift, the example of Pascal Lamy’s career is worth noting. Pascal Lamy has been a member of the PS since 1969. He attended the ENA from 1973 to 1975 (the Léon Blum class!) and graduated as Inspector General of Finance. He served as an advisor in Jacques Delors’s cabinet fromApril 1981 to July 1984 and was also a member of Pierre Mauroy’s cabinet from 1983 to 1984; he was a man of influence. He worked alongside Jacques Delors in Brussels from 1985 to 1994, then served as CEO of Crédit Lyonnais until its privatization in 1999. ThisIt goes without saying that, with such a track record, a socialist of this caliber was a reassuring choice to become Director-General of the World Trade Organization (WTO) from May 2005 to 2013. There, he was able to help shape the liberal international order—a task he carried out with great skill. Thus, the rhetoric of feigned inevitability and the doctrine of submission gradually prevailed. Increasingly, it will be primarily the Socialist Party that pursues this shift to the right, a trend from which the French Communist Party (PCF) will more or less escape after leaving the government in July 1984. But the PCF will nonetheless be severely shaken by difficult political stances that will create both internal tensions and rifts with a segment of public opinion that might otherwise have been favorable to it—for example, during the founding of the Solidarnosc union in Poland in 1980–1981, and, later, in November 1989, during the period that began with the fall of the Berlin Wall. Waves of activists, whose eyes were regularly opened to new realities, found themselves deeply disoriented and often lacking any other solid points of reference to hold onto.

A trade union movement that largely followed the government’s lead

On June 13, 1981, Georges Séguy, general secretary of the CGT, in an interview with a journalist, offered a positive assessment of the initial measures taken by the Mauroy government—which would last only from May 22 to June 23 and, as of June 13, had enacted only a few decisions (including a 10% increase in the minimum wage and a 25% increase in family allowances). It should be noted that the June 3, 1981, Cabinet meeting of this first and short-lived Mauroy government confirmed theabandonment of the Larzac military camp and the construction of the Plogoff nuclear power plant. Georges Séguy added that his organization would shift from a protest-oriented unionism to one based on participation and negotiation, while affirming that he would preserve the union’s independence and its autonomy of action. Itis yet another example of saying one thing and its opposite in the same sentence. From June 13 to 18, 1982, the CGT held its 41st convention in Lille, and Henri Krasucki succeeded Georges Séguy as general secretary. The convention described the wage freeze as an “economic error” and a “political mistake,” but no one called for action to oppose it. Krasucki, the new head of the CGT and a member of the PCF leadership, did declare that he would “encourage” workers to “speak out,” but there wasn’t even a single day of action. This is probably what one might call a form of trade unionism based on participation and negotiation. But the “communist big brother ” would adopt the same conciliatory attitude: on June 22, 1982, in Ajaccio, Georges Marchais deemed the wage freeze “unfair” and “not at all necessary,” but there was no further aggression or denunciation of any “scandal .” It seems the presence of four Communist ministers in the government was considered more important than anything else. For the most part, the PCF leadership would endorse the very concrete ideological shift represented by the “austerity turn,” which began in June 1982 and was largely confirmed in March 1983. By a very large majority, the CGT leadership would also follow suit. The CGT would also be influenced by the presence of “comrades” in ministerial cabinets—to a lesser extent under Fiterman at the Ministry of Transportation, and particularly in the Civil Service, with René Bidouze serving as chief of staff to the Minister of the Civil Service and Administrative Reforms , Anicet Le Pors. The career path of this union and political activist illustrates the reality of the relationship between the union—in this case, the CGT—and the political party—in this case, the PCF. René Bidouze joined the French Communist Youth at age 14, in 1936. And as soon as he began working at the Indirect Taxation Office, he joined the CGT. Without giving up his involvement in PCF activities, he served as secretary of the CGT’s National Union of Indirect Taxation Employees from 1958 to 1963, then as general secretary of the CGT Finance Federation from 1963 to 1970, and subsequently as general secretary of the CGT General Union of Civil Servants’ Federations (UGFF-CGT) from 1970 to 1978 and a member of the CGT Executive Committee from 1969 to 1975. When Anicet Le Pors offered him the position of chief of staff, it is understandable that the minister would want a competent comrade by his side whom he could trust. And, from the CGT’s perspective, the presence ofa unionized comrade could be seen as a guarantee that the union’s demands and proposals would indeed be brought to the ministry’s attention. What needed to be addressed, then, was the union’s autonomy with respect to the decisions that would be made by the executive branch. The union must not be subject to political power, even if that power was now exercised more or less by “comrades.” The decisions made by the executive branch will to a greater or lesser extent take into account the balance of power, and in this regard, it is essential that the union remain a decisive factor in that balance of power. The labor union must even serve as a force that exerts pressure on the executive branch to compel it to take union demands into account. For, at the same time, representatives of employers—both small and large—as well as doctors and other segments of the middle and upper classes were mobilizing and defending their interests, even taking to the streets. During these early years of “the left in power”—the first years in which the initial deviations began to take hold—the blurring of lines could occur in various ways, all of which made the labor union organization uncomfortable. Thus, sometimes, the former “comrade” was not in a ministerial cabinet but became a “boss” or “director” of a government agency. Jacques Roché, a unionized comrade, went on to have a brilliant career; for a time, he was even director of a prestigious division within the Tax Administration, the “National and International Audits” (DVNI) in 1982, and served as a special advisor, also in 1982, to the Minister of the Budget (Laurent Fabius), then even as Deputy Director General of the General Directorate of Taxes: the comrades in the CGT tax workers’ union were not exactly at ease when he presided over a meeting with the union organizations! Moreover, they already had their hands full with internal conflicts within the CGT, between the Socialist Party (PS) and the French Communist Party (PCF), as well as among PCF activists themselves—depending on whether they favored mass unionism or serving as the Party’s union mouthpiece—and also due to purely “political” conflicts, such as those related to the French Communist Party’s alignment with the Communist Party of the USSR on international policy.

In 1981, the left’s rise to power came as a welcome surprise to the CFDT leadership. It immediately set aside the “recentering” strategy adopted a few years earlier and its decision to distance itself from politics. On the evening of May 10, the confederal executive committee issued a statement titled “Together, Let’s Build Change.” And it clarified its position: “Throughout the campaign, and in the name of its union independence, the CFDT has made clear what its stance will be: neither passive trust—because change cannot come from a single man or a new team in power—nor excessive demands, since not everything is possible overnight.” On May 14, Edmond Maire officially met with François Mitterrand, and a CFDT delegation was received at the Élysée Palace on May 26. The delegation presented the new President of the Republic with its report on the CFDT’s priority demands, in which it emphasized, in particular, collective bargaining and its organization within companies on issues essential to workers—namely, wages, vocational training, the organization of working hours, and the right to free speech. Very quickly, many CFDT leaders took up positions in ministerial offices. The CFDT positioned itself as a think tank, particularly with the Auroux laws of 1982 and within the Ministry of National Education, in competition with the FEN [6]. It was just as quick to endorse the policy of austerity by agreeing to limit wage demands. Edmond Maire, general secretary of the CFDT, was a “pro” at double-speak; thus, in his opening address at the 39th CFDT Congress on May 25, 1982, in Metz, he declared: “The CFDT’s socialist self-management project is now confronted with new historic opportunities that we intend to leverage to the fullest. There are no longer any obstacles to moving forward with the construction of socialism… however, a serious setback quickly emerged. The victory of the left did not spark social upheaval or the development of numerous initiatives in workplaces and communities… Meanwhile, pressure groups representing privileged classes began to act to thwart the new policy… It isnot a matter of turning the labor movement into a mere conduit or passive supporter of political power… but the working class has everything to gain from a policy of rigor and truth .” It is all the more easy to lament the absence of “grassroots” initiatives given that every effort was made to prevent them from emerging—notably by repeatedly asserting that the response to demands would come through the ballot box. This was already the essence of the CFDT’s involvement in the Assises du socialisme, in October 1974. At that congress, members of the opposition still managed to make their presence felt and their voices heard, particularly among railroad workers, some of whom would later participate in the founding of SUD Rail in 1996.

Within the CFDT, there will be many examples of “ “disillusioned” activists—who more or less chose their career paths over their previously held convictions—were numerous. Thus, after the “austerity shift” of 1983, Jacques Chérèque, a former steelworker in Pompey (Meurthe-et-Moselle), and a former confederal leader (he had served as deputy general secretary of the CFDT in 1979), accepted—in early 1984, at the suggestion of Laurent Fabius, then Minister of Industry—the position of Deputy Prefect for Industrial Redeployment in Lorraine to oversee the restructuring of the steel industry. He performed the “job” so well that in 1986, Jacques Chirac, the new head of the cohabitation government, kept him in that position. His ability to serve the system enabled him to become, from 1988 to 1991, Minister of Regional Planning and Industrial Reconversion in the Rocard government. Today, the depopulation of too many regions and the deindustrialization of the country are likely due in part to the talents of this union leader, who, like others, to the enemy. But he must have slept soundly, content to have had a successful career, rising from steelworker to minister, ending on a high note, like Attila ravaging the plains where he was born. His son, François, would follow in his father’s footsteps. The reasons behind such betrayals are not necessarily obvious; there is certainly the desire for personal social success among quite a few individuals—some aiming for a ministerial post, while others may be satisfied with a professional promotion, a stint at the Council of State or the Court of Auditors, and then a return to their original administrative home with a very handsome promotion. Some may lose their appreciation for others and for life itself, retaining only a sense of business acumen.

With the left coming to power, quite a few FEN activists were also drawn into government ministries, particularly the Ministry of National Education under Alain Savary. Their secretary-general since 1974, André Henry, even left his post to become Minister of Leisure from May 21, 1981, to March 22, 1983. Guy Georges, general secretary of the SNI-PEGC, would serve asserve as interim leader for a few weeks before Jacques Pommateau became the FEN’s new general secretary. The FEN, too, was thus entangled in the country’s governance, and the union’s claims of independence from political parties struggled to gain traction when activists moved directly from full-time union positions to roles as members of a ministerial cabinet—or even to ministerial posts— as in the case of André Henry! The intertwining of the FEN and the PS became evident immediately after the 1981 legislative elections: many elected officials came from the Ministry of National Education, and a significant number were FEN members. The FEN’s bylaws affirm its independencepolitical parties, and the FEN prohibits holding both political and union offices simultaneously, but this principle would soon be shattered. At the FEN convention in February 1982, Jacques Pommateau highlighted the radical shift in the political landscape: “The situation has been completely turned upside down; power is no longer synonymous with ‘management’ and ‘right-wing forces’; the labor movement can no longer be synonymous solely with ‘resistance’ and ‘opposition.’ Together, we must relearn how to position ourselves within this new context—to remain, of course, a force for protest whenever necessary, but above all to once again become a force for proposals, for driving change, and for building the future .” This is reflected in the FEN’s stances regarding the government’s policies: the FEN protested moderately against the austerity measures of 1982 and 1983. The FEN even sought to broaden the Socialist Party’s union base. Jacques Pommateau, general secretary of the FEN from 1981 to 1988, put forward the idea of “union realignment” in January 1986. The FEN leadership established contacts with PS activists who were also union members in the autonomous movement (FASP, SNUI, etc.), as well as in FO and the CFDT. This likely took place in coordination with certain factions within the PS (Laurent Fabius, Henri Emmanuelli, etc.). The PS’s aim was to establish a union ally and create a reformist faction to counter the CGT, which was increasingly voicing criticism of the PS’s policies. Within the FEN, the “Unité et Action” (UA) faction—close to the PCF—denounced the creation ofa social-democratic union linked to the PS and abandoning the struggle for workers’ rights. This was made public following the FEN’s National Federal Executive Committee meeting on June 12, 1986, which caused some surprise, as well as some turmoil and reactions within a number of organizations (including the SNUI). But the FEN leadership’s determination to serve as the PS’s union arm continued to be evident. Contacts—often led by Jean-Paul Roux on behalf of the FEN—were strengthened with representatives of the autonomous movement (FASP, FGAF, FMC, FGSOA [7], etc.), as well as with FO activists (primarily Jacques Mairé and Jean Grosset). The case of Jean Grosset also illustrates quite well the extent to which roles can become blurred when, it seems, a person has no guiding principle other than personal interest. Jean Grosset was approached by the FEN as early as 1989, when Marc Blondel became general secretary of FO, breaking with the line of Bergeron, whom he succeeded. He joined the UNSA when FO activists left the union in 1996. He went on to serve as its deputy general secretary. In the fall of 2014, he was appointed by the Élysée (François Hollande) as an expert member of the Economic, Social, and Environmental Council. In March 2015, he became social advisor to Jean-Christophe Cambadélis, First Secretary of the Socialist Party (PS), even though he had been in a leadership role at UNSA just the day before; it should be noted that they have known each other well for 40 years, dating back to when they were both members of the Internationalist Communist Organization (OCI, Trotskyist). In February 1993, the UNSA was founded (along with the UID faction of the FEN, and organizations from the Group of Ten—the FGSOA, the FMC, the FAT, and other autonomous organizations such as the FGAF and the FASP).

All of this would leave its mark on union members from the very first years of “the left in power”: “we” had comrades in the ministries, and it was implied that it was a bit “as if” we ourselves were in government! From then on, when criticism began to be voiced, it quickly backfired: “we have to give them time,” “we have to trust them”, “You want VGE back—is that what you want?!”, “We have to give them free rein”, “It would be even worse with the others.” And so on, from one shift to the next, from one compromise to the next, from one retreat to the next, workers—along with the majority of union members—have lost the political elections they believed they had won. Nevertheless, as the government backtracked—and more openly starting with the 1983 austerity plan— criticism began to emerge from the grassroots. It was then that the political and union leaderships began to peddle a discourse of “wisdom.” For “left-wing” opponents of the government’s chosen policies, this became easier and more explicit after the communist ministers left the government in July 1984.

Trade-union independence seeking to express itself in various ways

As we have just noted, during the first months—or even the first years—after the left took the “reins of power ,” the leaderships of the major labor unions remained overwhelmingly passive. Quite often, however, this majority stance within the confederations (notably the CFDT and the CGT) was criticized by union groups that sought, to varying degrees, to organize opposition to this majority position and, at the very least, to foster debate. Thus, despite this prevailing wait-and-see attitude within the union leaderships, debates developed both within the organizations and among activists from different unions. Opposition to this wait-and-see approach sometimes even led to strikes, and even today, if we consult the Ministry of Labor’s annual statistics on work stoppages, significant figures are recorded for the years 1981, 1982, 1983, and 1984.

Strikes: The labor movement did not remain completely inactive in the aftermath of May 10, 1981. In fact, there were still days of strikes, most often directed against employers, rarely against the government or the government’s political policies. When conflicts do arise, they are very rarely widespread disputes that would more or less require the intervention of the union apparatus—such as national days of action, multi-sector strikes, or strikes affecting an entire industry or sector. More often than not, therefore, these are local conflicts, but they demonstrate that union leadership is well aware that eitherthey cannot expect everything from political authorities, or that they will only get what they demand—particularly when dealing with employers who are especially reluctant to accept any changes leading to social progress.

Several of these strikes by company employees nonetheless left their mark on the period. As early as the winter of 1981, female workers at the Chantelle factory (women’s lingerie) in Saint-Herblain, near Nantes, went on strike, which included an occupation of the factory and strong regional solidarity that lasted several months. In 1982, steelworkers in Vireux, in the Ardennes, went on strike, again occupying their factory. Also in 1982, immigrant workers initiated strikes at Citroën Aulnay and Talbot Poissy. On On March 1, 1982, Jack Ralite, the PCF Minister of Health, outlined the terms for phasing out the private sector in public hospitals, which was to be fully completed by December 31, 1986. On March 3, 14 doctors’ unions—opposed to the elimination of the private sector and seeking to preserve this additional source of income—opposed this policy favoring the public sector and called on hospital medical staff to participate in a national day of protest. Seventy-five percent of the medical staff heeded this call. What we are dealing with here is more of a “reactionary” strike. There will also be sector-specific actions opposed by the CFDT and CGT teams, as occurred at Société Générale in April 1982.

In the first year of the left-wing government, there appears to have been only one “national” conflict ” initiated by national labor unions on a progressive basis. It took place at the General Tax Directorate, an agency that, at the time, had a high unionization rate—with an effective union presence in nearly all administrative buildings—and a unified union movement, drivenimpetus—to a greater or lesser extent, depending on the phase—of the CGT and the SNUI. Already, during meetings between the labor unions and the new ministers Delors and Fabius, the CGT and the SNUI had tried to secure specific commitments from the ministers. The first meeting had been a disaster: the unions had not coordinated among themselves, and most organizations had presented their list of demands without establishing any order of priority. At the third meeting, organized by the CGT Finance Federation, the plan was to be concise in our demands and to seek concrete commitments from the minister. The SNUI and the CGT tried to get a response from Delors, but the other organizationskept diluting the demands. Afterward, our collective efforts improved. And on July 2, 1982, at the initiative of the SNUI, SNADGI-CGT, SGI-FO, and SNI-CFDT unions, employees of the General Directorate of Taxes were called upon to go on a half-day strike, in the morning. The call for a strike was intended to oppose the government’s new policy of a “total wage freeze and a partial price freeze.” This government decision was viewed as an attack on workers, since prices— and thus profits, will continue to rise, while wages are frozen—meaning that workers’ purchasing power will decline due to inflation (in 1982, inflation stood at 9.7%). This decision means that the government is prioritizing capital over labor. A few days before July 2, 1982, the four organizations were able to meet with “their” Minister of Economy and Finance, Jacques Delors, upon his return from Brussels, to explain their opposition to the chosen policies. The percentage of strikers ranged between 15% and 20%, which was very low at the time, given the very frequent unified calls for action issued by these four organizations. This call was possible in particular because the three affiliated unions all had a strong tradition of acting in unison and were not always “under the thumb” of their confederal leadership. Furthermore, the leaderships of the four organizations could rely on their unions’ official stance of independence, and this is precisely what they did to counter the internal criticism they would face for several months—criticism coming particularly from Socialist Party (PS) activists within the four union organizations. The call for a strike directly challenged the government’s political decision—the total wage freeze—which would consequently freeze the wages of tax officials, whose purchasing power the unions had the legitimacy to defend. This union unity and independence may have an explanation: the nature of the job—that of a tax official—a profession in which one quickly develops a sense of what is fair, and unfair in society, and where one quickly comes to understand the lies told by governments and the disconnect between rhetoric and actual policies—in this case, policies favoring capital owners. By March 1983, during the second phase of austerity measures, internal reservations about criticizing the government’s political choices had already weakened. Thus, the SNUI had a mandate from its Union Council to tell Delors that his choices were “unbearable, unacceptable, and intolerable.” Delors did not take this very well.

As the government gradually backed down in the face of demands from the “forces of money,” there were protests by employees in government agencies and public enterprises whose employer was, to a greater or lesser extent, the state and its representatives. At the same time, the government will ease its pressure on private-sector employers, who will quickly realize they no longer have much to fear from the government and will therefore be able to put the pressure back on employees. Strikes will once again break out in the private sector. In the early years, there will rarely be calls for national days of action from the confederal leadership. Instead, protests will be launched on the initiative of union teams, including the CGT and the CFDT. There will also be strikes launched “spontaneously” by collectives and coordinating groups, which may bring together both unionized and non-unionized workers. With the arrival of the Rocard government in May 1988, there was a surge in labor struggles across various sectors: Peugeot, nurses, the French Post Office’s “yellow trucks,” the Tax and Finance departments, etc. All these conflicts deserve detailed discussion, as they illustrate how, even under a “left-wing” government, social conflict still managed to find expression. The strike at the Ministry of Finance was directed against government policy (job cuts, dismantling of agencies responsible for regulating businesses, etc.). Due to its duration (from May to November 1989) and its radical nature (notably, more than 50 billion francs in VAT checks locked away in union lockers and other locations), it exacerbated tensions, particularly between activists who prioritized their political affiliation and others—far more numerous— who prioritized their union membership. In some departments, staged burnings of Socialist Party (PS) membership cards took place, a sign of the rifts that all this signified. During these conflicts, the “higher-level” union structures—the federations, civil servants’ federations, confederations, the FEN, etc.—were consistently absent. Thus, Jean-Paul Roux, head of the FEN, when asked in early September 1989 to “expand the action to the civil service level,” replied: “ the current focus is not on overthrowing the Rocard government.”

Union Debates and Alliances: Debates did take place, however, and some unions even sought to organize themselves to fill the void left by the confederal leaderships. Thus, shortly after the presidential election of May 10, 1981, Maurice Ragot, general secretary of the FGSOA, took the initiative to contact both the CGT and the CFDT. The FGSOA believed that the political change could have been an opportunity for a rapprochement between the labor organizations, as had been the case in 1936 between the CGT and the CGTU. In 1936, reunification was a key factor in the momentum of labor demands and the escalation of struggles. It was this united front that helped spur initiatives, factory occupations,factories and workplaces to force employers to concede more than they would have without that balance of power. And doubt prevailed among workers regarding the left-wing parties’ commitment to transforming the country, given their recent stints in government. In 1981, as for labor unity, the leaderships of both the CGT and the CFDT were primarily concerned with having unions seeking unity join their respective confederations. That was not the desired objective, and the FGSOA took the initiative to hold bilateral meetings with a number of autonomous, independent, non-confederated union organizations. On December 10, 1981, all these organizations came together to note, among other things, that they had almost all emerged from the split between the CGT and the CGT-FO and from their refusal, at the time—in 1947–1948—to choose between the two, prioritizing, as they believed was only temporary, their unity at the grassroots level, in anticipation of a return, one day, to “the great reunified CGT .” In addition to the FGSOA, there were the SNUI, the SNJ, the FGAF, the FADN, the FGAAC, the FAT, the SNCTA, the FASP, and the SUACCE [8]. There is a shared feeling that the reference to 1936 remains relevant today: to force employers to back down, to help—or compel— the new government to take progressive measures; the best guarantee is workers’ intervention in the workplace to exert pressure. Without fully realizing it at the time, it was indeed the question of union independence that was at stake—the question of workers’ autonomy. These ten organizations decided to meet regularly, making it clear thatthere was absolutely no question of creating an additional confederal structure or of acting against the confederations: what was desired was the broadest possible unity. They would meet with increasing regularity to discuss an ever-wider range of issues, eventually giving rise, in effect, to a new autonomous trade union bloc. Following up on this meeting, in January 1982, a call for trade union reunification was signed and made public by the National Union of Elementary School Teachers (Guy Georges), the Autonomous Federation of Police Unions (Bernard Deleplace), the Unified National Tax Workers’ Union (Gérard Gourguechon), the National Union of Journalists (Daniel Gentot), and the General Federation of Agricultural Employees (Maurice Ragot). This appeal fell on deaf ears with the CGT, the CFDT, and FO.

Forty years later, the damage remains unrepaired.

The “era of austerity” of 1982 … has never come to an end. The “left-wing” political parties are in disarray. We are witnessing a labor movement in crisis [9]. […] In 1981, it was certainly necessary to act “as in ’36.” But the vast majority of union leaders were waiting for a political and electoral solution to their demands. And, for the most part, workers celebrated “their victory” and let things slide. In 1936, there was also enthusiasm surrounding the Socialists’ electoral victory, but this was accompanied by widespread public distrust of the political class, stemming in particular from frustrations following the left’s victories in 1924 and 1932. The fact that, in 1981, union leaderships were not the driving force behind the strikes is not unusual: it was much the same in 1936. The elections were won on May 3, 1936; the Popular Front won the legislative elections, but Léon Blum’s government would not take office until June 4. But it all began on May 11, in Le Havre, at a watch factory, where workers went on strike to demand the reinstatement of laid-off colleagues. And it spread, like wildfire, becoming widespread—not at the initiative of the recently reunified confederation, but driven by workers and union teams within the companies. Generally speaking, these were strikes involving the occupation of workplaces, which prevented employers from hiring “strike breakers.” Very quickly, on June 7, the Matignon Agreements were signed; strikes continued nonetheless, but the party was over. On June 11, 1936, Maurice Thorez declared: “One must know when to end a strike as soon as one’s demands have been met.” In 1936, too, despite some progress, the “Great Night” did not take place; people went to the beach thanks to the first paid vacations.

In 1981, even if the ultimate goal was not for left-wing political parties to more or less take control of the state apparatus—for the Leader to be made King and reign in his Palace, surrounded by courtesans and courtiers eager for honors, perks, privileges, and sinecures—for other leaders to be made Duke of Normandy, Duchess of Brittany, Count of Artois, Nice, or Poitou, and still others be appointed directors or CEOs of EDF, the SNCF, Air France, Crédit Lyonnais, or other crown jewels—then we had to do as we did in ’36.

In 1981, if the ultimate goal was to change people’s lives, to set the nation on a new course toward justice for all, freedom, sharing, solidarity, recognition, respect, democracy everywhere, and equal consideration for each and every person, then we had to do as we did in ’36 and go even further—not stop halfway.

In 1981, if the ultimate goal was to win at least once against the others, to see their crestfallen faces, or even secure an increase in the minimum wage, job creation, union rights in the workplace, more vacation days, and improvements to the pension system, then we could have done as we did in 1981: leave the left-wing government isolated in the face of the “forces of money ,” and even if it had wanted to resist, it wouldn’t have lasted long.

To do as we did in ’36 would have meant that, as soon as we recognized on television screens—after seeing the bald heads—that it wasn’t Giscard but Mitterrand, the workers who were on the job at that moment, those on the “three-shift” rotation and others, would gather to decide how they would manage things from then on, while keeping the workplace running. Some of their colleagues had to join them at the factory so that it would be occupied the next morning. Perhaps even that very evening, at corporate headquarters, in offices, banks, government agencies, ministries, newspapers, radio stations, and television networks—everywhere where invisible workers were cleaning the offices so thatthey’d be clean on Monday morning; employees would have to rush in and occupy their workplaces as well. As of Monday morning, a thousand LIPs had to spring up, just as we proclaimed on September 29, 1973, in the streets of Besançon.

The level of commitment to the struggle does indeed depend on the sincerity of our demands: eitherit’s a game, or we believe in it. If we believe in it, we need a collective commitment that matches the stakes. All of this requires, on the part of the working class and its labor unions, both collective reflection and great determination. And this is where independence from political apparatuses becomes necessary. The goal of political parties is, in particular, to gain control of the state. In democracies, one must be elected by a majority of voters. This means making promises—which are not necessarily binding. And within political parties, there may be people who are largely satisfied simply by the fact that they now hold a position of power. For labor unions, this is a time to be particularly vigilant: “ They are they, and we are we .” Objectives can quickly prove to be at odds. Thorez said that we must know when to end a strike as soon as our demands are met. We must therefore know what our demands are. If it’s a modest wage increase—which is not insignificant and which improves the situation of those affected a little, right away—while knowing that tomorrow inflation could take it all away from us, we also know that it won’t change our lives—let alone the world—so we can end the mobilization as soon as such an agreement is reached. But if the goal is to put an end to capitalist exploitation, then the stakes are entirely different, and our determination in the struggle must notstop at election night. Election night and the victory of left-wing parties are not insignificant in building a balance of power in favor of workers and, more broadly, the working class and the victims of the current economic system. This new institutional environment can help facilitate the passage of more favorable laws.

It is at this stage that “the political outlet for struggles” takes on its meaning. But if the labor movement wants to go further in taking ownership of its work and in shaping the democratic functioning of the country—including the democratic functioning of companies beyond the near-unlimited powers granted to capital owners—then it must demonstrate independence from left-wing political parties. Their presence at the helm of the state must not become a trap. We must get used to not trusting them and to prioritizing debate within the labor unions—and debate on almost every issue. The best guarantee for a labor union to remain independent of political apparatuses is probably to have, internal debates that are highly political, but involving all members. The greater the trade union’s ambition, the more it seeks to participate in social transformation, and the more it will need to democratize its operations, and the more it must broaden the scope of its discussions. All of this must be done with all of its members, openly before other workers, while always maintaining the connection between the concrete realities of people’s daily lives and the vision being proposed and debated. And so, the pressure on the wealthy must be constant, and we must always strive to expand it. This potential expansion of the movement to other countries will be a key factor in the balance of power. Already, in the past, we have seen popular uprisings converge over time, and support and spur one another on, as well as weaken the common adversary—notably in 1848 and 1968.

Before 1981, the illusion had grown over the years that an electoral victory alone was enough to change people’s lives. In 1974, Georges Marchais warned: “ Even if we were to win under these conditions, we would cause disillusionment and set the labor movement in our country back by at least fifty years.” This is exactly what happened given the way events unfolded on May 10, 1981.

Gérard Gourguechon

[1] French Communist Party. Socialist Party. Movement of the Radical Left.

[2] From 1981 to 1986, the “Europe of Ten”—which would later become the European Union—included the following countries: Germany, Belgium, France, Italy, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Denmark, Ireland, the United Kingdom, and Greece.

[3] The Center for Socialist Studies, Research, and Education was then a faction within the Socialist Party’s left wing, led notably by Jean-Pierre Chevènement.

[4] With all the limitations inherent in that reality: see “1962–1984: The CGT and the Common Government Program,” in this issue.

[5] Charles Fiterman served as Minister of Transportation in the second and third Mauroy governments, from June 1981 to July 1984. He held the rank of Minister of State from June 1981 to March 1983.

[6] The National Education Federation (FEN), which had remained independent since 1947 following the CGT/FO split, held a large majority in its sector and was often involved in CGT and CFDT discussions and calls for action. It split in 1992 with the creation of the FSU; the remaining FEN joined the UNSA (now UNSA-Education) the following year.

[7] Autonomous Federation of Police Unions, General Autonomous Federation of Civil Servants, Federation of Supervisors and Managers (SNCF), General Federation of Unions of Employees, Workers, and Managers in Agricultural Professional Organizations. All of these organizations participated in the creation of UNSA, and some remain members to this day, though under names that have since changed.

[8] General Federation of Employees of Professional Organizations in Agriculture and the Agri-Food Industry, Unified National Tax Workers’ Union, National Union of Journalists, Autonomous General Federation of Civil Servants, Autonomous Federation of National Defense, Autonomous General Federation of Drivers (FGAAC), Autonomous Federation of Transportation, National Union of Air Traffic Controllers, Autonomous Federation of Police Unions, and Unified Union of Savings Banks.

[9] These three aspects are discussed in detail in Gérard’s full text, which will be published at a later date.