May 1968 and Departure

By early 1968, Gaullist France seemed triumphant. The economy boomed, international prestige soared, and political stability reigned. De Gaulle, reelected in 1965 (though forced into a runoff by François Mitterrand), dominated the political landscape. His prime minister, Georges Pompidou, efficiently managed domestic affairs while the President focused on grand strategy.

The Student Revolt

The explosion began innocuously. Students at Nanterre University, protesting dormitory regulations, occupied buildings. When authorities overreacted, protests spread to the Sorbonne. On May 10-11, the "Night of the Barricades" saw violent clashes in the Latin Quarter. What began as student pranks became a fundamental challenge to Gaullist order.

The students' grievances mixed the trivial with the profound. Overcrowded universities, outdated curricula, and authoritarian administration sparked initial protests. But deeper issues emerged: rejection of consumer society, opposition to Vietnam War, desire for sexual freedom, and hatred of Gaullist paternalism. "Be realistic, demand the impossible!" became their motto.

De Gaulle initially dismissed the students as "bed-wetters" playing at revolution. His generational incomprehension was total. The man who embodied historical grandeur could not understand youth who mocked all authority. The soldier who had sacrificed for France faced children who questioned France itself. The authoritarian democrat confronted libertarian anarchists.

Workers Join In

The real crisis began when workers joined the movement. On May 13, unions called a general strike in solidarity with students. Factory occupations spread spontaneously, often against union leaders' wishes. By late May, ten million workers were on strike. France was paralyzed.

Workers' demands were more concrete than students'—higher wages, shorter hours, union rights. But the mass strike reflected deeper dissatisfactions with Gaullist modernization. Prosperity had come, but at the cost of intensified work rhythms, authoritarian management, and growing inequality. The paternalistic state that granted benefits could not substitute for genuine participation.

The conjunction of students and workers terrified the establishment. Was this 1789 again? The Communist Party, caught between revolutionary rhetoric and reformist practice, tried desperately to separate the movements. Union leaders negotiated wage increases while denouncing student "adventurism." But for a few weeks, revolution seemed possible.

De Gaulle's Response

De Gaulle's handling of the crisis mixed bewilderment with cunning. His television address on May 24, promising vague reforms, fell flat. His sudden disappearance on May 29—he had flown secretly to Baden-Baden to consult French military commanders—sparked rumors of abdication. France seemed leaderless.

But on May 30, de Gaulle returned transformed. His radio address—deliberately choosing radio over television—was vintage de Gaulle. He dissolved the National Assembly, called elections, and warned of communist dictatorship. Within hours, hundreds of thousands of Gaullist supporters filled the Champs-Élysées. The silent majority had spoken.

The June elections were a Gaullist triumph. Fear of disorder drove voters to seek stability. The UDR (Union for the Defense of the Republic) won the largest parliamentary majority in French history. Student revolutionaries retreated to universities. Workers accepted substantial wage increases. Order was restored.

The Final Act

But May 1968 had broken something in de Gaulle. The general who understood historical forces had misread social transformation. The leader who embodied France discovered many French rejected his embodiment. The democrat who claimed popular legitimacy faced popular rebellion. Victory felt like defeat.

His response was characteristically proud. Rather than adapt to new realities, he sought to reaffirm his vision through constitutional referendum. The April 1969 referendum bundled regional reform with Senate reorganization—technical issues that aroused little passion. But de Gaulle made it a vote of confidence: approve or I resign.

The campaign revealed a tired old man recycling past glories. His television appearances lacked former magic. His threats of chaos if he departed rang hollow—Pompidou clearly could succeed him. On April 27, 1969, 52.4% voted "No."

At midnight, a terse communiqué announced: "I am ceasing to exercise my functions as President of the Republic. This decision takes effect at noon today." No explanation, no farewell, just departure. The man who had twice saved France could not save himself from changing times.

Retreat to Colombey

De Gaulle's final eighteen months were spent at Colombey, writing memoirs and receiving select visitors. He refused all honors, all positions, all public appearances. When he traveled—to Ireland, to Spain—it was as a private citizen. He watched his successor Pompidou with approval mixed with jealousy.

His memoirs of the presidential years, left unfinished at his death, revealed a man still convinced of his mission but aware of its limits. He had given France stability, prosperity, and independence. But he had not transformed French society or human nature. The grandeur he sought proved more elusive than the power he wielded.

On November 9, 1970, while playing solitaire after dinner, Charles de Gaulle collapsed from a ruptured aneurysm. He died within minutes, conscious just long enough to murmur "It hurts" to Yvonne. His instructions were explicit: no state funeral, no presidents or ministers at his burial, just a simple ceremony at Colombey.

The world leaders stayed away as requested, but the people came. On November 12, while official France held a memorial at Notre-Dame, 40,000 ordinary French citizens trudged through rain and mud to Colombey. They came to bury not just a man but an idea of France—heroic, independent, eternal. With de Gaulle died a certain idea of grandeur that France has sought, but never quite found, ever since.# Part 5: Legacy and Modern Influence